Give His Heart a Break
by eccentricpetal
Summary: Two things; he had needed her for two things. They were simple things, he thought. One, he needed a place to stay; a place to hide. Two, he needed her to… be there for John. But, he had not expected it to end up like this.
1. Nine Months

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **To anyone who has read my previous stories you will know that I have been planning this. I wasn't going to start writing this just yet but it appears to be getting in the way of my other ideas. So, here it is: my first chapter story for you. I'm not entirely sure how this story is going to go. I have a beginning and an ending in mind, the rest I'm hoping will just flow while I am writing. So, enough rambling from me; the multi-chapters are about to begin.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I do not own Sherlock. It's the simple, really.  
>_<p>

**Chapter One: Nine Months.**

Two things; he had needed her for two things.

They were simple things, he thought.

One, he needed a place to stay; a place to hide.

Two, he needed her to… _be there _for John.

But, when he had asked the second task of her, he had not expected it to end up like this.

* * *

><p>Nine months, seven days, two hours and thirty three minutes had passed since he had asked those two things of her.<p>

And it was on the day of those nine months, seven days, two hours and thirty three minutes that life took another drastic turn he hadn't anticipated.

Molly Hooper had arrived back at her apartment after a day at London Zoo with Dr. John Watson.

Sherlock knew this due to the overpowering odour of sheep, pigs and goats all mingled in to one (they must have been allowed to touch some of the animals).

Also, Molly had not shut up about it since John had asked her the week previous.

Molly hadn't really stopped talking about John since two months had passed after Sherlock's 'death.'

John was ready to open up and after all her persistence of trying to comfort him; he had chosen her to be the one to talk to.

Sherlock didn't really mind her rambling, (for once, he would never admit that though) as it gave him a piece of his old life back; it gave him a piece of _John _back.

Even though Molly and John were becoming close he feared not that she would end up taking his place.

No one could replace him; he was Sherlock Holmes.

The thought was laughable.

But as the door to her apartment had shut in that annoying gentle way of hers and an overjoyed sigh had emitted from her lips, he knew something had changed.

He just wasn't too sure what that something was.

When she entered her stuffy living room, he saw no physical difference with her (other than the content look on her face and the signs of wearing in her clothes.)

Obviously the change in her was psychological.

"Did you enjoy watching that sheep give birth?" He did not even glance up from the microscope his eye appeared attached to.

"Hm? Wait… how did yo—oh, never mind." Molly shrugged her shoulders and came to rest her elbow on the table the microscope rested upon.

"I did." She simply smiled at him.

Sherlock kept his head down.

She wasn't rambling.

How… _odd. _

"How's John?" He was generally interested in that, more so than Molly's behaviour.

"John." That sigh again.

It irritated Sherlock now.

"Yes."

She didn't reply.

He pulled up from the microscope and was met with a wistful look on Molly's face.

"Molly." He almost growled.

Her eyes locked on his, the look never fading.

"John is just terrific." She grinned at him.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly, unnoticed by Molly.

Sherlock hadn't heard anything other than "fine" or "ok" when he'd asked that question before.

He had a feeling he would not like the reason why John was feeling _terrific_.

He's mind scanned back to the times before when John had seemed that way in himself.

Only two times came to his mind.

One, whenever they were on an exciting case.

Which clearly wasn't the reason considering he was 'dead' and all.

Two, whenever John was _seeing _someone new.

That must have been the reason.

Sherlock never quite understood why John always seemed bright when he went on a date with some woman.

Anytime he had met the said woman, she was always so… _dull_.

It was ridiculous to him.

He turned his attention back to his microscope, waiting for Molly to begin rambling on about the day spent at the zoo.

She didn't.

"Did you… see any… _dogs_?" He prompted.

That brought Molly back to him.

"Why would I have seen any dogs?"

"It's a zoo. They keep animals there. Dogs are animals, Molly."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Have you ever been to a zoo, Sherlock?"

"No."

He felt no need to go to a Zoo.

What was he really going to learn by going to a Zoo?

"You've never been to a Zoo?"

"Clearly."

"You think Zoo's keep… _dogs_?"

He didn't respond.

"It's a Zoo, Sherlock. Not Battersea."

"Battersea?"

"You don't know what Battersea is?"

"Clearly."

He was getting irritated with her constant questioning of the obvious.

He had already stated it for crying out loud.

"It's a charity. They look after dogs and cats. They recuse them."

Boring.

As useless as knowing that… that… _thing _everyone is always going on about him not knowing.

What is it again?

John wrote it on his blog.

Something about the moon… NO! … The Sun and Earth.

That's it.

Molly was staring at him.

"That's nice."

That seemed the right thing to say, didn't it?

He'd forgotten what she had said… something about a charity, wasn't it?

"Really? I wasn't too sure how you'd react."

Oh no.

She had that wistful look, again.

It clearly wasn't to do with charity.

"Hm."

"Its tomorrow night, eight o'clock. You'll have to hide; John's picking me up here."

Sherlock's head slowly rose back up from the microscope.

"Molly, we made the rule that John was never to come here."

"I know but, he wants it to be like a proper first one."

A minute, barely noticeable, frown fell across Sherlock's face.

A proper first what?

He stared at Molly for a few moments.

It was beginning to dawn on him.

No.

It just could not be.

Don't let it be.

'Oh Molly,' he thought, "for once, let me be wrong!'

"A first what?" His voice rough.

A noticeable frown slipped over Molly's face and she tilted her head an inch to the left.

"Were you even listening to me just now?"

Well done, Molly.

"No."

She sighed but her eyes held that excited, blissful look once again.

"John asked me out."

"So? You always go out. You go out for coffee, lunch. You go to the cinema, the zoo and shopping. Why is this news?"

He knew why.

He knew the _difference. _

He just didn't like the difference.

"John asked me out for _dinner_." She emphasised the word dinner like it made all the sense in the world.

It did.

But, he had already known.

He didn't reply.

His eyes went down to the microscope and he began to analyse the bacteria on the little slide.

Molly Hooper and John Watson going out for… _dinner. _

It was… _odd._

It was… something that made his chest tighten and his head feel small until his world was spinning.

"I need a fag." He mumbled to himself – Molly had vacated her spot and gone upstairs to her bedroom.

John Watson and Molly Hooper going out for _dinner. _

Molly Hooper and John Watson going on a… _**date**_.

John was his best friend and Molly she was his… his… PATAHOLIGIST!

The two simply did _not_ mix.

Why couldn't they see that?

All he had asked of her was two things:

One, give him a place to stay; a place to hide.

Two, she needed to be there for John.

But this?

This was ridiculous and taking it too far.

This Sherlock Holmes had not anticipated, at all.

**Authors Note: **So, there it is. The first chapter to my story. I'm unsure whether I like it or not. I'm a little fuzzy in the head right now due to a cold and my concentration isn't all there. I hope you enjoyed it. It took a while to get in to the flow of things as I wasn't sure how to put it down in words but I got there eventually and it turned out longer than I first thought. The endings a bit weird… I'm not sure if I like it… but, I really wanted to use that final line. Also, I'm not sure if Sherlock is in character this time. Please, let me know. Something feels off about him and I want to change that. So, thank-you for reading. I hope I receive some reviews and look out for the next chapter!

Petal.


	2. Meaning Deeper

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **I am already getting a lovely lot of response to this story and that means so much to me. I am so glad you are all enjoying it and I hope it stays that way. Here's a little story that happened to me tonight: I thought Benedict was going to be on this year's _National Television Awards _and so I wasn't going to start writing this chapter so I could watch it. Took me a whole hour to realise he isn't on it this year. Mugged off or what! A final thing before I begin to write is I want to give a big shout out and thank-you to **Nocturnias**. Your reviews are so sweet and overall you're just a general sweetheart. You are one of those who inspire me to continue writing. Thank-you. Nevertheless, here we go! Enjoy!  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Unless I marry Benedict Cumberbatch, I in no way own any of this.  
>_<p>

**Chapter Two: Meaning Deeper.**

Sherlock didn't sleep that night.

He simply stayed downstairs in the living room, crouched over the dining table, staring in to his microscope.

He couldn't sleep.

Thought after thought seemed to control his mind.

He just wasn't sure how this could happen.

He thought the other women John had been seeing at one point were boring, but Molly Hooper, well she was a whole different type of boring on her own.

Why would John ever want to spend time with her… _romantically_?

Sherlock scoffed at the word.

Anyone who spent time with someone in that sense was insane.

But someone, he thought was better than the rest, freely spending time with Molly in that sense he just could not get his head around.

Perhaps, Sherlock had been wrong.

John was trying to replace him with Molly.

How John could think Molly was anything like himself was beyond him.

Molly was average smart, average pretty, average sense of humour, average… average everything!

But that didn't explain why he wanted to _date _her.

Unless John had wanted to date _him_.

Sherlock had never got that feel from him though.

But then again, he hadn't realised Molly had wanted him in that sense either, not until he had seen that stupid Christmas present.

He frowned and pulled back from the microscope.

Why on earth was Molly going on a date with John?

She wanted to be with _him_.

Unless she is using John as a replacement him.

But why would she do that?

She knows he's alive.

Not that he would ever… _go out _with her.

He doesn't do relationships, or love.

It's all weakness.

His thoughts are interrupted by the pita patter of feet.

He glances at her from the corner of his eye, irritated.

Why did she have to be so loud?

"Good morning, Sherlock."

She's always too cheerful.

"Morning."

"Did you sleep at all?"

He can feel her coming closer to him.

"You were like this when I went to my bedroom for the night."

He doesn't have to look to know she's frowning at him.

"Correct."

"Why didn't you sleep, Sherlock?"

"Why didn't you wash your hair this morning, Molly?"

Did she just roll her eyes at him?

"I have to go in to work for a couple of hours. Apparently there's been a big accident and no one's sure about the cause of it. I need to do a couple autopsies."

Sherlock's head turned to hers at that.

"I'm coming."

She frowned at him, again.

"You're on house arrest. Remember last time? You started a whole online conspiracy about whether you are dead or not."

"Well done to those who believe I am not dead."

She rolled her eyes, again.

This seems to be a new habit of hers.

"That's only because they saw you! Why on earth you decided to wear your ridiculous coat, I'll never know!"

"It does its job. It keeps me warm. It keeps me dry. It—"

"I don't care, Sherlock! Because of that damned coat you left the world suspicious! Including John!" She almost growled.

That's right growled.

Sherlock had never seen her so becoming.

Perhaps, that's how she speaks while around John.

Maybe that's why John wants to go on a date with her.

"Fine."

"I'm going now. Goodbye, Sherlock."

He didn't reply.

She left the apartment.

Finally, he stood up from the chair and took of his blazer.

A faint buzz sounded from the table.

It was his phone.

_Tidy your things away while I'm gone. John's coming tonight, remember. –MH_

He glared at the phone in his hand.

He wanted to smash it against the wall.

He wanted to throw it out the window.

He wanted to put it to the floor and stamp on it.

He wanted to chuck it in the toilet and flush that message away.

He wanted to do a lot of things to the phone in his hand and he wasn't really sure why.

But, instead of giving in to an emotion he did not want to admit he felt, he simply closed the message and put the phone on the table again.

Another buzz sounded.

He looked down at it and glared at her name.

_I mean it, Sherlock. If I come home and find your stuff still out, I'm kicking you out. –MH._

He rolled his eyes.

The amount of times she had threatened that one on him before when she had had friends coming over.

He'd never done as she'd asked before.

She'd never kicked him out.

This time, however, he did begin to remove his belongings from sight.

After all, he was still protecting John and he couldn't have him realising he was alive all because he went on a ridiculous date with a ridiculous _woman_.

While tidying up, Sherlock ignored another thought running through his head.

That thought being that he was doing this for another reason in which involved _her_.

A reason that if he thought about would mean he'd have to identify _why_ he was doing it for her.

And that he refused to do.

**Authors Note: **So, here is chapter two. It's not really a proper chapter, more of a filler to be honest. The only reason I truly wrote this chapter was to let Sherlock have a little bit of thinking time and to show his relationship with Molly at the moment (which is nothing special.) I kind of have an idea of where this is going now. I think you all might like it. I'm going to get off here and go plan it out. Jealous? I think you all are! Reviews are dearly welcomed. I hope it wasn't too terrible. I don't like this chapter, at all.

Petal.


	3. She's Procreating Beautiful

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **First thing I would like to say is, thank-you to those who have reviewed. I really like to know everyone's thoughts on how I am doing and what they would like to be improved. However, I haven't got much response for this story, so far. So, I'm taking that as a sign people don't like it. Right now, I am going to continue writing because I do have quite a few people who have put this on story alert. But, after this chapter I am going to wait until I get more reviews to post the next. I'll still be writing every day, you just may not get the next chapter for a couple of days. I am sorry but I just want to make sure this story is wanted. Without further ado here is the next chapter!  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I owned this once… yeah, it was a good _dream_.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three: She's Procreating Beautiful.<strong>

Molly returned home five hours later.

Three hours later than she had stated.

When she walked in to the living room the stale odour of death followed her and the look on her face made her look like she could have been one of the bodies she had been cutting up.

"Solved?" He didn't look up from Molly's laptop.

She'd scold him for using it later.

It was the seventh time she'd change her password on it.

She really needed to stop being so obvious.

"No." She grumbled and threw herself down on the couch next to him.

He spoke nothing, waiting for her to continue.

"There was no need for me to even go in. I did four autopsies only to discover that all four had passed from natural causes."

He looked up from the laptop and to her.

"Case solved."

She shook her head.

"Not exactly; it's unnatural for all of these natural causes to have taken place at once, in the same car. It's like they just dropped dead and crashed. None of them had records of ever having problems to do with the causes. Someone made it happen."

Interesting.

"What were the causes?"

Molly looked towards him and sighed.

She really wasn't interested in re-living the horrific day right now.

Couldn't they do this later?

"Heart attack, kidney failure, stroke, and cancer."

"Hm. Very interesting. It's exciting!"

Sherlock jumped up, nearly dropping her laptop as he did, and began pacing the width of her living room.

This was obviously four planned deaths.

The cancer death: someone had must have administrated it in to the deceased's body. For them to not have noticed it must have been a terminal form that was already too far gone.

Perhaps, they had all done it themselves.

He'd need to find out their names.

He needed to find out about them and what they had been doing before their death and where they had been going.

It was all so peculiar!

Oh, he felt _alive_!

He hadn't had a case in for so long.

Here laid the perfect one for him to play with.

"You tidied up."

He didn't stop pacing; he was too busy looking at this from every possible angle.

"Hm?"

"Thank-you for actually listening this time. I was dreading the thought of having to tidy it myself. Now, I can go and get ready for John."

He paused in his pacing.

His mind silenced.

John?

"The date." His voice cold.

"Yes, the date."

Molly stood up from the couch, smiling.

She may have felt as if a piece of her had gone and died while she had been working today but the thought of seeing John, and seeing John in a _romantic _sense, shocked her back to life.

"He arrives at eight?"

Molly was on too much of a high to notice the ever present coldness in Sherlock's tone.

"Eight o'clock sharp!"

Molly looked to Sherlock.

She didn't notice the change in his posture.

She didn't notice the blank look in his eyes.

Heck, she hadn't even thought anything of the fact he had stopped pacing.

"I am going to go and get ready now."

She smiled.

He glared.

She paid no mind to it; this was Sherlock being Sherlock.

He was probably irritated that she was distracting him from the case she had presented him with.

She left the living room and made her way to her bedroom.

He said nothing.

* * *

><p>Once Molly had left, Sherlock began to pace again.<p>

This time his thoughts were anywhere but the case.

He tried to stay in control.

He tried to push the thoughts from his mind.

It was like something had taken him over.

He couldn't figure out what it was.

He didn't like whatever it was.

He wanted whatever it was to stop.

It did.

It stopped two hours later.

He was still pacing, but when it stopped so did his movements.

His eyes locked on the form in the doorway.

When had she become so… so… _beautiful_?

He frowned inwardly.

Beautiful?

No one was beautiful.

Sherlock Holmes did not use the word beautiful.

Beauty was a concept the mind made up for males to woo females in order for them to procreate.

Sherlock Holmes certainly did not want to procreate with Molly Hooper.

He did not wish to procreate, at all.

But if he did, Molly Hooper would be a splendid candidate.

In his head, he groaned at the thought.

No matter how much he tried, he was still a human male and every now and then his male needs presented themselves.

They had during secondary school.

They had during university.

They had when he'd met _The Woman_.

And now, they were taking over again as he stared at Molly Hooper.

Her hair was pinned up with two stray curls cascading around her face. She had obviously curled her hair. Her eyes were coloured with a dark brown that faded out at the edges to give them a smoky feel. Her lips were painted a deep shade of red and looked more inviting that he had ever thought possible. Her neck she had left necklace bare, which was a good thing, he thought, as it made him want to take her in to his arms and suckle on the tender skin just below her ear.

He scolded himself then.

He was Sherlock Holmes.

He did not give in to his… _desires_.

His eyes then trailed down to her daring neckline. The dress was black lace and dipped low in between her breasts. They didn't appear to be as small as he had once believed. The dress fell just above her knees and he noted that she did not seem to be wearing any type of tights, black or nude.

Why would she not be wearing any tights during this weather?

Was she trying to get John to notice her legs?

Why would she want John to notice her legs?

Why would she want John to notice her at all?

It was simply ridiculous.

They were both being stupid.

They had no reason to be going on a date tonight, no reason at all.

His eyes made the final move down to her feet where she wore a pair of black heels with a platform sole and a thick heel. The shoes had gold studs covering the back and all the way down the heel; they didn't seem to be Molly at all.

Ha!

She was putting on a show for John!

This wasn't really her!

Why would she be putting on a show for John?

Was she trying to get John to sleep with her?

Did she think this showed him a daring side to her?

He chuckled inside his head.

How pathetic!

She was Molly Hooper, St. Bart's Pathologist.

If anyone believed she had a daring side to her, they were idiots.

"How do I look?"

His eyes snapped up to hers.

He glowered at her.

"Your hair looks over done. John will be able to tell you curled it and see that you're putting far too much effort in. I'm assuming with your eyes you were going for a sultry look but it looks more like a two-year-olds work. The red lipstick is too obvious. John will see that you're clearly trying to draw his eyes to your lips. The neckline of your dress makes you look like a common prostitute. You could have at least worn a necklace to make yourself appear less exposed. You don't have the breasts to pull off that neckline, either. Its winter, Molly. You're not wearing tights. Even the lowest IQ man would understand that you're trying to entice him with sex. The shoes; you look like what I suspect you did when you were sixteen. You're trying to make John believe you've got a wild side. It doesn't suit you, Molly. You obviously do not have a wild side. In all, you look desperate; you smell desperate, and John is going to notice that."

Molly just stood there.

It felt as if ice cold water had just been thrown over her head.

She felt numb.

She stared at him, willing herself not to cry.

"How dare you, Sherlock." She whispered.

He stared at her.

"How dare you put me down like that!" She hissed at him.

"Why can't you ever just say something nice? Even if you don't mean it, say it! It's what normal people do."

"You want me to lie to you."

"Yes."

"You look beautiful, Molly."

It was the truth, after all.

She didn't reply.

There was a knock at her door.

She narrowed her eyes on him and he took the hint.

He left the room and made his way to the bathroom, to hide.

He listened to the clicking of her heels as she went to the front door and opened it.

"Come in, John."

She sounded happy, considering.

"Molly… wow… you look pretty… no wait… more than pretty… you look bloody stunning!"

"Thank-you, John."

Sherlock could picture her in his mind right now.

Her teeth were probably sinking in to her bottom lip.

She was probably fidgeting with her hands.

Her eyes were probably glancing down at the floor, coyly.

He didn't like it.

He didn't like it one bit.

He didn't know why he didn't like it.

All he knew was, he didn't like her acting this way around John.

"Are you ready to go?"

She looked behind her and to the bathroom door, he could tell.

She most likely nodded her head and grabbed her coat.

"I'm ready."

He came out of the bathroom once he was sure they were out of her street.

He lent against the bathroom door and frowned to himself, a noticeable frown if anyone had been around.

For what felt like the hundredth time today, Sherlock Holmes was confused.

**Authors Note: **I like this chapter. I hope you all like it, too. Its seven pages long in word! Longest chapter I've wrote so far. Anyways, like I stated at the beginning I won't be posting anything for a while until I get more reviews for this story. So please, please let me know your thoughts on it so far! Thank-you.

Petal.


	4. Change and Chicken Tikka

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **Ok, so even if I hadn't have got all your splendid reviews I still would have posted this because I just can't resist writing this story now! Anyways, guys I'm so grateful to your reviews! They were amazing and I'm just overjoyed that you are all loving this story. So, here we go with the next chapter!  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I simply own nothing.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four: Change and Chicken Tikka.<strong>

He paced the entire width of Molly's kitchen.

He rocked on a spot in her bedroom.

He tapped his fist against the living room wall.

And he was close enough to skipping the length of her hallway.

Instead, he found himself claiming the single chair in her living room and bringing his knees up to his chin.

It wasn't quite the same as being home at Baker Street but he had made it make do since he had been living here.

* * *

><p>He <em>knew<em> John.

He knew exactly where they would be right now.

At that cheap, little Indian place a couple streets from Baker.

But then again, this was _Molly_.

Would he really take her there?

_She was Molly_.

Sherlock scoffed aloud.

Of course John would take her there.

It was _only_ Molly after all.

Molly was more boring than John's previous women.

John had awful taste.

He didn't even choose someone dangerous like Irene Adler.

He was sure Adler would go for him if he wanted.

But no, John prefers idiotic, rambling, boring _Pathologists_.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

He wondered vaguely what Molly would order at the Indian.

In all his time here, he had never once seen Molly eat Indian.

Sherlock's lips twitched.

She didn't like Indian.

Ha!

She wouldn't tell John that though.

She was too kind; she was too _sweet_.

She'd probably go for the most common choice: Chicken Tikka.

Food poisoning appears to be in Molly's near future.

His stomach did a little drop at the thought.

He didn't quite know why.

He ignored it.

What did Molly see in John anyways?

She had always seemed to like men who were… _exciting_.

Like himself.

Like James Moriarty.

But John, John was far from exciting when he wasn't around.

Maybe that was it.

Maybe she was choosing John because he was the opposite of himself.

Her last… _partner _had been Moriarty, after all.

But still… John.

Why John?

He just could not get his head around it.

Sherlock's thoughts slowly began slipping towards John's intentions on this date.

What did John want from Molly?

According to Molly, John hadn't been dating since his 'death.'

Which would mean John hadn't been having sexual intercourse.

Was that why he wanted Molly?

She was someone who he could easily get to go on a date with him.

She was someone who he could easily woo himself in to the folds of her bed sheets.

The idea of such a thing made him want to go upstairs and break Molly's bed.

And he wasn't quite sure why.

But surely, it had to be that!

No one in their right mind would want to go on a date with Molly Hooper just so they could get to _know _her, _talk _to her.

It was preposterous!

It made him laugh out loud like a crazed person.

He only stopped when his blazer pocket vibrated.

There was only one person that message could be from.

He pulled out the phone and stared.

_John is insistent on coming back to the flat. He's paying right now. Hide in the cupboard under the stairs. –MH_

He glowered down at the message.

He placed his phone on the coffee table.

* * *

><p>After waiting for an approximant twenty minutes, he went and hid himself under the stairs.<p>

It was a ridiculously small space.

Perhaps, she was trying to punish him for his comments earlier.

Bravo Molly.

He mentally clapped her.

A couple minutes after he had locked himself in the cupboard, the front door opened.

He could hear a rather giggly Molly step through.

Far too much wine she had consumed.

He would scold her for that later.

"No, really! He thought that! It was absolutely hilarious. How anyone could have been so smart and yet so ignorant of basic facts is beyond me!"

John's voice.

It sounded as if he was the topic of discussion.

"Oh believe me! I know!"

He heard their feet shuffling in to living room.

He strained to hear the rest of their conversation.

"I mean just yesterday, he confessed to me he didn't know what kind of animal's zoo's kept. How bloody funny is that?"

Oh, Molly.

"Just yesterday?"

Sherlock could feel the tension building from here.

She was such an idiot.

Why he trusted in the first place, he'd never know.

Desperation?

That was possible.

"Oh… I-I… uh… I mean it felt just like yesterday he was telling me that."

Not a terrible save.

Not a great one either.

But pretty good considering it was Molly Hooper.

"Oh. I know what you mean."

He didn't think John did.

"Anyways, I had a wonderful night tonight, John."

Was that a purr he heard in her tone?

His eyebrows rose upon his forehead.

"So did I, Molly."

He couldn't see them but it didn't take a genius to know they were only inches apart from one another.

Sherlock was fighting with his self-control to stay in the stupid cupboard.

He didn't really know why he was, though.

"I would _love _to do it again."

More purring?

Sherlock was fuming inside the cupboard.

How could she be talking to his best friend that way when she knew he was only a few steps away from them?

Unless, that was why she was doing it!

Ha!

He'd figured it out.

That's why Molly Hooper was interested in John.

She thought it would get to him!

How pathetically thick could she be?

He was Sherlock Holmes.

He did not feel petty emotions like jealousy.

He especially would not feel them for some pesky, petite pathologist!

"How about Wednesday, eight o'clock, again?"

Sherlock glared at the door.

John was going to kiss her.

"Perfect."

Sherlock scoffed aloud.

She couldn't have chosen a word she could have purred at him anymore, could she?

Could John not see how desperate she was being right now?

It had gone silent.

Sherlock listened closer.

His eye twitched a little.

His chest tightened.

They were kissing.

"I'd offer you something to drink but I have work tomorrow."

Finally, they had stopped kissing.

"Oh, it's fine! I—"

They were interrupted by a buzzing coming from the coffee table.

Sherlock's hand rose to his blazer pocket.

Empty.

_Fuck_.

"Isn't that Sherlock's phone? Why do you have Sherlock's phone, Molly? Why isn't that phone smashed to pieces on St. Bart's roof?"

A pregnant pause.

"Don't be silly, John! It's an iPhone. So many people have iPhone's."

"You don't have an iPhone. Who's phone is it, Molly?"

"No one's. You need to be going."

She fake yawned.

John didn't move.

Molly gave John a gentle nudge.

He sighed and gave in before moving towards the front door.

He paused on the step outside the flat.

It seemed the mobile phone had already been forgotten.

"I really did have a wonderful time with you tonight, Molly."

"Oh, John. I did too."

She was sighing in that utterly annoying way she had been the day John had asked her out.

Sherlock was sure she had that stupid wistful look covering her face, too.

"Goodnight, Molly Hooper."

A kiss.

"Goodnight, John Watson."

The door was shut.

* * *

><p>As soon as Sherlock was sure John had turned the street corner, he barged out of the cupboard.<p>

He moved in to the kitchen.

Molly was making tea; a habit of hers before bed.

She glanced up at Sherlock and sure enough that awful look was there.

This time though, there was an added twinkle in her eyes.

Sherlock's stomach twisted.

"That reeked of desperation, Molly. You realise you were purring at him the entire time he was in this flat. God knows how you behaved at dinner with him. I sure hope there were no children about, your voice alone sounded like a pornstar in a porn film!"

Molly didn't even flinch.

"Do you watch a lot of porn films, Sherlock?"

She continued stirring her tea.

He continued to glare at her.

"Let me guess, John took you to that Indian place near Baker Street. You kindly accepted it, even though you hate Indian. You spoke about your childhood, your families. When it came to John's sister and her alcohol addiction, you took his hand and said you were sorry. When it came to you telling John your father had died, he rubbed that same hand with his thumb. Then I suppose you moved on to the topic of your teenage years and all the things you had wished to be. You both gladly skipped over your university years though; you didn't wish to bring up painful memories of the horrible mistakes you made. Then finally, it all changed to talking about me. The one thing you both have in common. Oh, you both ripped in to me and just before leaving the pair of you got overemotional over the fact I am 'dead.' I'm sure you managed to pull it off by thinking back on the comment I made to you earlier about your appearance. After that, you wished I were dead."

Molly turned around to face him, tea in her hands.

"Am I right?"

She raised the drink to her lips.

"All but one thing."

He waited for her to continue.

"I'd never wish for you to be dead."

She then made her way out of the kitchen.

He frowned a frown that, if she looked, would be unnoticeable by her.

Why wasn't she upset with him?

He had just mocked her entire evening and yet she showed no emotions.

His chest did that aggravating tightening again.

Why did it keep doing that lately?

He watched her walk to the stairs.

What had John done to Molly Hooper?

She was ignoring his every jibe at her.

It was intriguing.

Why hadn't he brought this out in her before?

Why did it have to be _John_?

Why did he just think John's name the way he would think the word _love_?

Molly paused before reaching the stairs.

"Sherlock…"

Before she could say another word, the tea dropped to the floor as did Molly.

He knew what was about to happen.

He took the sink bowl and began to walk towards her.

He didn't quite get there in time.

She threw up what appeared to be a poorly made Chicken Tikka.

_Told you so._

**Authors Note: **Chapter four, done! I think Sherlock's thought process was bad at the beginning. I was half asleep writing it. It approves towards the end. I like the ending. I think it's kind of cute how Sherlock was about to go and help Molly while she throws up. Anyways, what are your thoughts? I hope you enjoyed it! I had fun writing it once I got in to it. I'm hoping to write the next chapter tomorrow but I may not be able to. If not, expect it Saturday!


	5. The Friend vs The Pathologist

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **I haven't much to say. I'm enjoying reading your reviews. They are so wonderful to receive. I hope you enjoy this chapter and review. Thanks. :)  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I do not own Sherlock.

**Chapter Five: The Friend vs. The Pathologist.**

Sherlock was not a fan of this.

He wasn't a fan of much.

But this, he hated.

Two months had passed since Molly and John had begun… _dating._

He thought after the disastrous first date they would have realised what he _knew_.

They hadn't.

Molly ignored his every try at explaining to her that an ending between her and John was inevitable.

He sighed.

They were on a date now.

It had become a routine.

They went out four days out of seven.

Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday.

Monday was always a lunch date, one until two.

Wednesday was always a trip to the cinema.

John was being cheap.

_Orange Wednesdays. _

Friday was always a dinner date at any restaurant that was _reasonably _priced.

Saturday. Saturday was spent at Baker Street… all _day_ and all _night_.

It irritated Sherlock.

He wasn't quite sure why it irritated him.

It just did.

Irritated him to the extent that he wanted to punch John in the face.

That then irritated him more.

John was his best friend.

Sherlock didn't do friends.

John was the exception to that rule.

So, why did he want to hurt him?

He sighed and unnoticeably furrowed his brow.

It was a case he had yet to solve.

It was Wednesday date night, tonight.

John and Molly were at the cinema.

Sherlock assumed they had gone to see _Warhorse_.

Sherlock scoffed.

He was no genius when it came to dating but when one went on a date were they not supposed to take the said date to a… _romantic _genre film?

At least it wasn't a Saturday.

Molly would be coming home tonight.

Vaguely, he wondered if she did not have work the next day would she be.

The answer to that question put him on edge.

He willed himself to push John's face out of his mind.

His thoughts on what he would do to him right now weren't so pleasant.

He stood from his knees-to-chin position on Molly's single chair and began to pace.

His mind beginning to unravel the case at hand.

He had had enough.

He needed to know why he felt like punching John's face lately.

When had it begun?

He stopped pacing.

He sat down on the coffee table and crossed his legs.

He centred his focus and began digging in to the depths of his mind palace.

He could recall the very first evening it had happened.

It was the first night Molly had stayed over at 221B.

Sherlock had been waiting up for Molly.

It had gone one in the morning.

She wasn't home.

He had felt on edge.

Then his phone had buzzed.

He'd quickly opened the message.

_Staying at John's. Forgot to text. Sorry. –MH._

He had frowned, noticeable.

John's?

He lived there, too.

Molly had forgotten.

He had felt strange.

It was almost like for the first time he was realising he was dead to the world.

It appeared he was to Molly, also.

He had blamed John for that.

He had wanted to punch him right then and there.

First clue: _Loneliness_.

When was the next time he had wanted to punch John?

He began shuffling through his memories.

It had occurred a week after the first.

Molly had returned home from… _John's_.

He noticed it straight away.

Her hair wasn't just bed hair.

It was _sex _hair.

That could only mean one thing.

John and Molly had participated in sexual intercourse with one another.

He doubted Molly had found herself another to have sexual intercourse with.

He remembered it clear as day.

His fists had begun flexing beside his legs.

He hadn't understood why.

He had ignored it and left the room.

Second clue: _Molly_.

Sherlock's eyebrows raised on top of his head.

Where had that come from?

Why had he thought _Molly _was a clue to this case?

She was involved in both incidences.

But that was merely coincidence.

Was it not?

He searched even further in to his memories.

When else had this peculiar behaviour happened?

When John had tried to have sex with Molly at her flat.

When Molly had cooked John a badly prepared dinner.

Whenever Molly sung those ridiculous love songs in the shower.

When Sherlock had found Molly looking online for John's Christmas present.

Christmas was three months away!

She hadn't even spent that long on his the year before.

Sherlock put his fist to his mouth and frowned, a truly noticeable frown.

All incidences included Molly.

What on earth could that possibly mean?

How on earth was that a clue?

She was just… _Molly Hooper_.

Boring, Molly Hooper.

St. Bart's, Molly Hooper.

Not special, Molly Hooper.

Sometimes pretty, Molly Hooper.

The one that counted, Molly Hooper.

The one that _meant something_, Molly Hooper.

Sherlock stilled.

Meant something?

What the hell did that actually mean?

Sherlock laughed at himself.

The Great Sherlock Holmes and he couldn't even understand basic terms.

He stood from the table and began to pace.

Surely it couldn't?

Or could it?

His mind slipped back to the night Molly had told him about John asking her on a date.

What had his reaction been?

He had thought of Molly as being his, his pathologist.

The night of the date, what had happened to him?

He stilled once again.

The night of John and Molly's date, he hadn't even been concerned with John being in the flat.

He had been concerned with Molly _leaving _the flat to be with John.

He gulped.

Sherlock Holmes did not gulp.

What was this?

Molly had gotten food poisoning after her date with John.

He had nursed her back to health.

He hadn't even realised.

When John had first made the awful mistake of ordering the Chicken Tikka, Sherlock had simply gazed at him and spoke three words: "told you so."

Why had he helped Molly get better?

John was his best friend.

Molly was his pathologist.

He was no genius in this department but he was aware of the fact friends came before pathologists.

Did he subconsciously class Molly as a friend?

It was possible.

He had been living with her.

She wasn't as… annoying as she once was.

But she was still irritating.

Especially when she didn't return home on Saturday nights.

He began to pace again.

Why did that irritate him so much?

Was it because he knew what they were doing on those Saturday nights?

He frowned for what felt like the seventieth time tonight.

For that to bother him would it not mean he would have to _like _Molly in that… _sense_.

He emitted a small groan.

That wasn't possible!

That absolutely was not possible!

He sat down on the coffee table again.

He wanted a fag.

He seemed to want them more and more often lately.

Why was that?

He knew not.

He didn't care.

He was too busy to think about that.

He needed to solve this case before that one.

Did he like Molly?

Absolutely not.

He shook his head, to himself.

Perhaps not.

But.

Did he _care_ for Molly… even in the smallest sense?

It was possible.

It was likely.

If so, that meant he had to look out for her.

Didn't it?

Isn't that what one is supposed to do when they care about someone?

He thought so.

Then it was decided.

He needed to look out for Molly.

John was bad for Molly.

He knew what they seemed to be blind to.

It was inevitable really.

They were going to end.

It wouldn't hurt if he gave them a little push in the direction.

Help them both ease out before either could get hurt.

John was his best friend after all.

He wanted to help him, too.

He stood from the coffee table.

That went quite successfully.

He stared ahead blankly.

He was no longer craving a fag.

Was it to do with Molly?

Or maybe it was to do with John?

Either was possible.

He walked towards the dining table where his microscope was sat.

It was settled then.

He'd begin crafting his plan tonight and set it in action tomorrow.

John and Molly, like he kept repeating, a separation was inevitable.

That was why he must do this.

Well, that's what he kept telling himself, anyways.

**Authors Note: **That did not turn out how I expected it. But, I am happy with the chapter. I may have to change some of my plan around now. He was going to realise a little more than he did. However, that felt unnatural to me and so all Sherlock has discovered is that he cares. I hope you enjoyed it! It was so much fun to write. Even though I know what's going to happen, each chapter is a journey to me and I feel everything Sherlock does. It's simply amazing. Perhaps, I'll update tonight, again. I'm sure you are all going to love Sherlock's plan. ;)

Reviews are highly welcomed, lovely!

Shamelessly plugging here right now! Feel free to follow me on twitter (eccentricpetal.) I follow back and you can ask me any questions about my stories there. I will answer.

So, thank-you for reading.

Petal.


	6. All Part of the Plan

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **Hey! Thank-you so much for everything! I love reading your reviews and it's an honour to see how many people are reading this and enjoying this. I hope you like this next chapter. That's about all I have to say today.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I do not own Sherlock and I shall never own Sherlock. –sad face.

**Chapter Six: All Part of the Plan.**

Sherlock was watching Molly on the couch.

She was reading.

He wasn't quite sure why she was here.

She had only spoken a few words to him this morning.

She should be at work.

"Molly."

"Hm?"

"You're late."

"For what?"

He rolled his eyes.

She was so oblivious.

"Work, Molly."

He sighed.

She looked up at him and smiled.

"I'm taking a day off. I need to sort the flat out."

He raised an eyebrow.

"You can do that on Sunday."

"John's coming to stay over tonight."

He stilled.

He could have been a statue.

"Why?"

His voice was rough.

There was a slight grow to it.

"He wants to stay over. He's getting suspicious about not staying over."

He frowned.

"I am not staying under the stairs for the entire night, Molly."

She laughed.

Really, Molly? Really?

"I thought you could just stay in your room for the entire night."

She shrugged.

She hadn't even asked.

Always polite, Molly.

And yet she hadn't even asked him.

John certainly was becoming a bad influence on her.

It needed to be stopped.

He stood up from his chair and smiled.

Molly was still looking up at him.

Her eyebrows raised on top of her head.

"Of course, Molly."

His smile brightened.

Tone it down, Sherlock.

Molly will see right through it.

He turned his smile in to a softer one; it was more natural.

"Let's go have a coffee, Molly."

Molly's cheeks coloured a ruby red.

"You can't go out, Sherlock."

He continued smiling.

Was it starting to come off as fake yet?

He hoped not.

"Don't be silly, Molly. I much prefer your coffee."

Molly frowned.

She seemed confused.

Was she really so idiotic?

He had thought her smarter than that.

"I-I d-don't understand, Sher-Sherlock."

He forced down the urge to roll his eyes at her stammer.

"Join me in the kitchen, Molly?"

She looked unsure.

He moved forward to her.

Did her breath just hitch?

He lent forward and took a hold of her hand.

She gasped.

"Sh-Sherlock…"

"I thought we could have some chocolate digestives, too."

She bit her lip.

He pulled on the hand he was holding.

She was right up against his chest.

Her head tilted just so she could look up at him.

"Su-s-sure."

He began leading her to the kitchen.

A real smile, she could not see, settled on to his lips.

He dropped her hand once they were in the kitchen.

She put the kettle on and took two mugs from the cupboard and then began to prepare their coffees.

Black, two sugars for him.

Cream, three sugars for her.

Sherlock watched her.

Her hair was pulled back in to a messy ponytail; her face was clear of makeup – he'd never seen her look so awake. She wore a blue pair of fleece pyjama's that had ginger cats on them.

He smiled to himself.

It was just… so… so… _Molly_.

And Molly, she was endearing.

He could get used to seeing her like this.

He thought she looked beautiful doing the most mundane of tasks.

She didn't seem to have a care in the world.

He paused.

An unnoticeable frown fell over his face.

Beautiful?

Had he really just thought Molly Hooper as being _beautiful_?

That was absolutely ridiculous.

She was far from beautiful.

She was average.

Just average Molly Hooper from St. Bart's morgue.

His attention turned back to her.

She was almost finished making their coffees.

He took a plate from the cupboard and scattered a few chocolate digestives on it before setting it down on the table.

Molly turned to him with the coffees – her cheeks still shaded in red.

She placed hers down on the table and handed him his own.

He smiled at her, generally thankful.

It had been so long since she had made him a coffee.

He had _missed _it.

The one thing Molly Hooper was perfect at was making coffee, his coffee to be precise.

"Thank-you."

He waited for her to sit down.

She did.

She expected him to sit at the other end of the table and was shocked when he sat down in the chair next to hers.

Mentally, he praised himself.

That was the reaction he had been hoping for.

"How's life, Molly?"

She stared at him.

She seemed unsure of how to answer the question he'd thrown her way.

"It's fine, Sherlock. Why do you ask?"

He shrugged his shoulders and then placed his coffee on the table.

"Just wondering."

He lent his elbow on the table and brought his palm to his cheek, leaning in to it.

"Anything interesting happening at Bart's?"

Move in to it slowly, Sherlock.

Don't scare her too much.

She needs to believe this is _natural_.

"No, Sherlock. If there was a case, I would have told you. There has been nothing since that one with the four who died in unnatural conditions of natural causes."

The case had gone unsolved.

Sherlock Holmes was truly needed in the world.

"What a pity. I'm sure work must be dull for you nowadays."

He sipped on his coffee; she bit down on a biscuit.

Once she swallowed, she answered.

"A bit but I've got John for entertainment."

"Ah, John."

He couldn't help the slight sigh that slipped in to his voice.

She thought it was because he missed him.

He had no idea what it was for.

"Yes."

She didn't seem to be able to control the smile taking control of her face.

"How are things with John?"

She stared at him for a few moments.

He couldn't quite understand why.

How odd.

"Why are you even asking, Sherlock? You know everything."

He sighed.

Oh.

That's why.

What's a good excuse for this?

"I'm on break from deducing."

That wasn't exactly true but it seemed to work for her.

"Things with John… well, things with John are… Oh Sherlock, John is amazing. I never thought I'd be with someone as perfect as him."

She wouldn't be for much longer.

"That's just splendid, Molly."

She didn't pay any attention to what he was saying.

He needed to step this up a notch.

He shuffled his chair closer, deliberately letting it scrape the floor and pull her from her thoughts.

She looked towards him and jumped at how close he was in her personal space now.

"Molly, I have a confession."

Her heart began to pound in her chest.

She was sure he could hear it.

He took her hand in his, again.

He checked her pulse.

_Perfect_.

His thumb began to rub the skin of her hand, sweetly.

"Y-ye-yes?"

"You remember the night of your first date with John?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

"Well, do you remember how I spoke some rather poor words of your appearance?"

She nodded once again; he continued to rub the skin of her hand affectionately – he had forgotten he was even doing it.

"I didn't mean a single one of those words. I thought you looked exquisite that night. Molly, you had never been so beautiful." He whispered the last word; leaning in to her a little bit more.

That wasn't exactly a lie.

His eyes deliberately slipped down to her lips, so she noticed, and then back up to her eyes.

"I am so sorry for lashing out at you, Molly."

She appeared to have stopped breathing.

He waited patiently for her to speak.

She stared at him.

Time to step it up to the final step of this phase.

"I was wondering, Molly, if you'd cancel John tonight. I'd like to spend the evening with you as long as you'd like to spend it with me."

She gulped in air.

He nearly laughed at her reaction.

"W-why?"

He hadn't expected a _why_.

He just assumed she'd jump and squeal at him; he thought she'd be grateful for this.

What could he say?

He quickly thought of something, she'd like, before it seemed like he was unsure.

Molly wasn't _that _idiotic.

"I feel as if we don't know one another. We live together, Molly. I want to _know _you."

She bit down hard on her lip.

"You know me, Sherlock. You know everyone and anyone at the first glance."

Not true.

He hadn't known The Woman at first glance.

"I want to know you from _you_."

Her eyes dilated a little.

"So, what do you say, Molly?"

Once again, his eyes moved down to her lips and this time it wasn't quite planned.

Molly seemed to notice.

"I'm sure John won't mind…"

She sounded unsure.

"He won't."

Sherlock nodded his head and continued stroking her hand.

"I'll go and text John now."

Sherlock stared deep in to her eyes.

She didn't move.

He didn't move.

Molly's eyes trailed down to his lips.

Sherlock didn't even notice.

He found himself leaning in, subconsciously.

Molly was doing the same.

They were so close…

Just a few more inches and their lips would touch.

They _snapped _backwards.

The phone in the hallway began to ring.

Molly jumped up from the chair and began muttering to herself that it was most likely John.

Sherlock paid no mind to her.

He didn't watch her go.

What had just happened?

He didn't understand it.

He couldn't even recall if that was a part of the plan?

Surely not.

But it had to be.

He would do that on his _own_ terms.

Yes, that was it.

It had been a part of the plan.

Oh yes!

He remembered it now.

Quite vividly.

He had planned to _kiss_ her.

He frowned.

John just had to get in his way.

He'd rectify that tonight.

He turned his head to watch Molly.

She must have been telling John he couldn't come tonight.

He smiled a noticeably real one.

It was all part of the plan.

Or so he kept telling himself.

**Authors Note: **Chapter six, done! I hope you liked it! Oh Sherlock – you're quite an idiot! I love reviews, they give me fuel. So, review? :) I hope you do. I'll update this soon. I promise. If not tomorrow, then definitely Monday. I think this chapter was quite poorly written but I'm still going to give it to you.

Petal.


	7. Boudin Blanc

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **Unlike the previous chapter, this one has my undivided attention (most of the time, my friend keeps bugging me on Twitter). I hope you like Sherlock's plan so far and in the chapter below, his plan shall continue. Of course, there shall be a big problem along the way! So, immerse yourself and enjoy! :)  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I am seventeen years old; does it really look like I own Sherlock? Yes? Oh… right… Well, I don't… Just to clarify.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Boudin Blanc<strong>

Sherlock's plan was going _smoothly_.

An hour after John's phone call, Molly was finally smiling again and willing to let tonight just be for the _two _of them, as he had put it.

He knew she would eat that right up.

He hadn't been wrong.

He didn't even have to check her pulse to know that had made her heart beat faster.

He'd made his words sound as if they implied a certain type of 'get-to-knowing.'

"You know what you should do right now, Molly?"

She shook her head.

She wasn't speaking much at the moment.

Words seemed to be failing her because of his behaviour.

"You should go have a _nice _bath and get dressed."

He smiled; making sure it wasn't too overdone.

"Ok." She nodded.

She stood from the chair and, with one final glance towards him, left the room.

The smile was wiped from his face instantly, once she was out of sight.

They hadn't spoken about the… _incident _in the kitchen.

Maybe she hadn't noticed?

He rolled his eyes at himself.

Of course she had noticed; she wasn't that thick.

He ran a hand over his face and looked around the space.

It wasn't much.

He couldn't do much to make it more… _romantic_.

He would have sent someone to an asylum last year if they had told him right now he would be sitting in Molly Hooper's living room, trying to think of ways to make the place look romantic.

He stood from where he was sat and began to search her cupboards for supplies.

He was sure she would have some.

She was the type of girl who would buy all the useless romantic _crap_ even though she didn't have a love life, well up until a few months ago that is.

He wanted to do nothing but be back during those times.

He'd rather be _bored _than pretending to _like _Molly Hooper.

Aha!

He found exactly what he was looking for.

Candles in an array of love associated colours; table cloths that gave off a sensual feel and finally the best vase she had – the kind that twinkled under the lighting.

Around the small room, he scattered candles in the colours of red and a cream-like white. He then proceeded to lay a heavy, red table cloth over the coffee and dining table. On the far left corner of the coffee table he placed one of the cream-like white candles and in the middle of the dining table he stood two of the same candles. In between those candles the vase was put.

Sherlock assessed what he had done so far, making sure everything was in order, and then moved in to the kitchen to fetch the flowers he had ordered the night before.

They had come while Molly was asleep and so thankfully, she didn't see his ridiculous disguise at the door.

He brought them in to the living room with a jug of water and after pouring some in the vase, he settled them in.

He studied them for a few moments before re-ordering the layout of each flower.

He scoffed.

Had he really paid someone to do that for him?

They had no right to even call themselves florists.

His final step to making this room perfectly romantic, well as perfect as the room could be, was to light each and every one of the candles before turning the lights out.

He smirked.

He was going to have Molly eating out of the palm of his hand.

* * *

><p>About forty-five minutes after his craftsmanship in the living room, Molly came downstairs.<p>

She heard the bustling of cutlery and plates in the kitchen and frowned.

Either Sherlock had gone insane or there was a burglar in her flat.

The latter seeming like the more logical choice.

She walked in to the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks.

Sherlock looked so… _domestic_.

He looked so natural as if he cooked every day of his damned life.

She bit down on her lower lip.

Why did he have to make everything look so damned good?

She watched for a few moments.

"It's rude to stare, Molly." He snapped.

She would have thought he was angry but he turned to face her and there was a smile latched on to his lips.

"What are you doing?" She didn't stammer.

"Cooking _you_ dinner." He spoke the words as if it were the most natural and obvious thing in the world.

"I see."

She was quiet for a few moments and Sherlock handed her a glass.

"Your favourite wine."

She sipped at it.

How had he known?

Oh, wait.

Thank God she hadn't asked that question out loud.

He would have looked at her like she was a right plonker.

"Why are you cooking me dinner?"

"I told you earlier, tonight is _our_ night." He turned back to preparing the food.

"I know. But, why are you cooking me dinner?"

"I want to."

Her mouth hung open in the shape of an 'o.'

"Go and sit in the living room, Molly. Dinner will be served in just three minutes."

She nodded her head and, took her wine, going to the living room.

Sherlock listened to her closely and smirked when he heard a gasp echo from her lips and a whisper of what sounded very similar to the phrase "oh my goodness" slip from those very same lips.

* * *

><p>Entering the living room, precisely three minutes later, with two steaming dishes of <em>Boudin Blanc<em>; it was the only dish he remembered his mother teaching him to make.

Tonight he chose to make the dish in order for Molly to see what a pathetic choice John was.

One, the food was made by him (it gave it a more personal touch; shows her he wanted to do this).

Two, his dish was French (the language of love).

Three, it wouldn't give her food poisoning after eating it (that had a pretty obvious reason why that was important).

Sherlock laid her dish down in front of her and watched her reaction.

Did she just _grimace_?

He blinked twice.

She looked perfectly normal, smiling the way she always did.

He really needed to get out of this flat.

His detecting skills seemed to be playing up.

He placed his own plate down and took his seat, opposite her.

His eyes took in her appearance: her hair was hanging down, soft curls caressing her shoulders and falling to her chest. She wore a minimal amount of makeup (mascara), and was dressed in a white, silk, dress that, from what he had noted of her in the kitchen, fell just above her knee and was graced with a pair of white ballet pumps on her feet.

A lot less effort than what she had put in on her first date with John.

He _liked _that.

She could be herself around _him_.

But, to her this wasn't a date.

They were _getting to know _each other.

But, wasn't that what a date was?

He watched her, from across the table, her fork circling the circumference of the plate.

He frowned.

Did she not like the food?

Oh, no.

That was bad.

He was trying to _impress_ her.

He was trying to show her that John wasn't right for her.

He wanted her to see that there were other men out there who could _treat her better_.

"Is something the matter, Molly?"

She looked up to him.

She gave him a shy, nervous smile.

She didn't answer.

He refrained from yelling at her.

She looked down at the dish he had prepared.

His patience was wearing.

She looked back towards him.

"I don't really like sausage."

Inside his head, he groaned.

He was no better than John.

Actually, no, he was.

John knew what that place was like and he had still taken her there.

John knew what that curry was like and he still had let her order it.

John had no excuse; Sherlock did.

He didn't say anything.

He just watched her.

"But, it looks… _nice_!" She hurriedly spoke.

Sherlock almost laughed.

Always so polite.

"I'm sure the vegetables are lovely. I'll just eat them." She continued on speaking, her fork still circling the plate.

Sherlock watched her, almost intrigued by her behaviour.

"I'm sorry. I should have asked."

Molly laughed.

"It's completely fine, Sherlock. The whole point of tonight is for us to get to know one another."

She smiled at him.

He almost felt bad.

That wasn't the point of tonight, but she didn't need to know that.

He began to eat his dinner.

She began to eat her vegetables.

Throughout the meal, Sherlock found himself asking her question after question.

He wanted to know if there was anything else he didn't know about Molly.

So far, he knew everything she told him.

But still, he gave her all the right responses.

Well, he must have because she kept on chattering away animatedly.

* * *

><p>After dinner, he insisted on clearing the plates and for Molly to sit down on the couch.<p>

He certainly was playing the perfect gentleman tonight.

It didn't take much convincing and soon he was back with more wine and was seated rather closely to Molly on the couch.

She hadn't seemed to notice.

She'd drunk far too much wine, already.

He topped up her glass and vowed to give her no more.

"You know, Sherlock, I've been talking about me all night."

"Hm?"

He was staring at her, his eyes piercing in to her own.

"I don't think that's very fair. You said it was about getting to know each other. I feel as if I know the exact same about you that I always have."

Molly edged slightly closer to him.

Wine certainly made Molly more daring.

Perhaps, he shouldn't have topped her glass up after all.

"What do you wish to know, Molly?" He whispered.

Like she had, he edged closer to her, too.

He hadn't taken a single sip of his wine.

He was fully aware of what he was doing.

"What's your mother's name?"

"Mummy is called Elizabeth."

"What was your first pet?"

"I've never had one."

"That's ridiculous. Why have you never had a pet?"

"Never interested me."

"What does interest you, Sherlock?"

"Right now… _you_."

Subconsciously, Molly moved closer.

He could practically feel her body heating up at his words.

"And why do I interest you right now, Sherlock?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

There was some truth to that statement.

"Have you ever kissed somebody before, Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"Did you like it?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever had a girlfriend before, Sherlock?"

"No."

"Have you ever wanted one before, Sherlock?"

"No. But, I'm starting to reconsider that at this moment in time."

Oh, she'd like that.

Her cheeks reddened and her eyes dilated.

Oh yes, she definitely liked that.

"Is that so, Sherlock?"

"It is so, Molly." He mocked.

"Why are you starting to reconsider, Sherlock?"

She either didn't notice his mockery or she ignored it.

He was leaning more towards the first option.

She wasn't that bright.

She was even less bright in her current state.

He was about to answer Molly when he noticed how close she was leaning in to him.

His eyes flickered down to her lips and then back up to her own eyes.

He wasn't quite sure why, but he found himself leaning in to her, too.

This _wasn't _a part of his plan.

They were so close.

Even closer than the first time they were caught up in this situation.

But, they abruptly stopped when they heard a door shutting and another one opening.

"Molly, how did you known I'd be com-" The voice of John Watson trailed off as his eyes fell upon the incriminating pair of one who was alive and the other supposedly dead.

In that moment, Sherlock Holmes had two thoughts running through his mind:

One, John Watson was standing a few meters away from him.

Two, why hadn't he known that Molly didn't like sausages?

**Authors Note: **So, this didn't go to my plans specification's but I like this more! For some reason, I found this harder to write than my previous chapters. I hope to you all, it paid off. It was fun to write. I really hope it doesn't feel rushed to any of you. Anyways, reviews are loved and very much welcomed! I hope to be writing some of this fic for you tomorrow but I have a lot of work to do and so I may not be able to. I may not be able to write as much from Monday onwards as I have a deadline for a piece of work that really needs a lot of perfecting. But, I'm still going to try and work around it. I hope you liked it!

Petal.


	8. Switch It

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **I feel so loved right now, guys. Jesus… your reviews… wow. Without use I would not have the amount of inspiration I do to write this story. You all are amazing. I actually love use. I hope you don't mind, but I'm thinking of proposing to each and every one of you. No? Good. ;)  
>Anyways, luckily, I don't have to do what I was going to today and so I can write this chapter and get it out to you all. It's going to be quite a sad one, I think. Also, I hadn't realised it but the last chapter actually changes my plan quite a lot. What happened with John was technically meant to be chapter eight but it worked perfectly in the last one.<br>**Disclaimer: **I didn't own it at the start of Chapter one, I highly doubt that has changed since then.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight: Switch It.<strong>

John Watson stared at what was in front of him.

He couldn't quite comprehend it.

It couldn't be true; it was _impossible_.

He had watched the man in front of him fall from a roof.

He had seen the man in front of him lying, cold, and _dead_ on the pavement below that roof.

But yet, here he was.

Here he was _alive_.

His skin was still the colour of alabaster and if he hadn't been able to see him moving in front of him, he would have easily believed he was still dead.

His eyes then trailed over to Molly, Molly Hooper his _girlfriend_.

They stayed there for a few moments before going back to the man (he couldn't quite say his name yet).

He did a double take.

It was truly _him_.

His eyebrows knotted together.

The scene before him was a funny one.

The scene before him was one he _never _thought he would see in his life time.

The scene before him looked almost like a… _date_.

That was truly not possible.

The man before him was meant to be dead for starters.

The woman in front of him was meant to be his girlfriend.

The pair together… well, they would never be caught in a situation like this.

Anyone who knew them would have vouched for that.

But, the proof was right in front of him.

The flickering of candles in the corner of his eye; the wine bottle and glasses; the table that had clearly been used for what appeared to be dinner.

It all pointed in one direction: Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper were on a _date_.

All at once it began to bubble inside of him, like a drink that had been shaken and was just waiting to explode on the first person that touched it.

"J-John…" Molly's soft voice was his undoing.

"You bloody bastard!" He hissed.

His gaze was on Sherlock.

He thought he saw him flinch.

He hoped he had.

He deserved it.

He stepped forwards, towards Sherlock, ignoring Molly altogether.

She was next.

"What the fuck have you done, Sherlock!"

John's eyes were ablaze.

"Saved your life."

John's eyes narrowed on to his _best friend_.

Some best friend he was alright.

Molly and Sherlock were no longer sitting inches apart; Sherlock was on one side of the couch and Molly on the other.

John just couldn't take any of this in.

He was, quite frankly, baffled by the entire situation before him.

"For those of us who aren't the _Great _Sherlock Holmes, could you explain that a little further?"

John nearly punched the man in front of him when he watched him roll his eyes.

"Moriarty had three hit men on you, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade if I did not commit suicide. Well, I had already figured out he would do something like that and so I formed a plan on how I could do it and yet still live. Molly has been letting me hide out here since it happened."

John stared at him.

He didn't move.

He didn't speak.

He felt his eye twitch, a little.

But still, he didn't speak.

So, Sherlock Holmes had been alive all these months and he hadn't even given him the consideration of… oh… perhaps, a _phone call_?

He'd let him suffer.

He'd let him think he was dead.

He'd let him think he was alone.

No!

He'd actually left him to be alone!

He'd left him to suffer for months.

John had nearly lost control; he'd nearly taken to drinking to numb the pain of Sherlock being gone.

He'd only just managed to hold on and that was only because of Molly.

His eyes narrowed further than they already were.

Molly had _known_.

Molly had known for all these months!

Molly had watched him and comforted him!

She hadn't even hinted to him the one thing she knew would have put him out of his misery.

He looked towards her.

She looked like a little mouse who knew there was no escape from the trap she'd got herself in.

"You!" He growled.

Molly squirmed and looked down at her hands.

"You _knew_, Molly!"

"You knew and you just watched me pour my heart out to you! _Him_, I can understand! He's a heartless bastard! But you aren't, Molly. You're sweet, kind, honest and caring… or so I thought. You're obviously so much more than that. You're a deceiving… a deceiving _BITCH_!"

Tears had begun to roll down Molly's cheeks.

She wasn't looking up but John and Sherlock could tell.

Anyone who saw the current scene would have been able to tell.

"Hold up, John." Sherlock growled.

John's eyes snapped to his – the fire still hadn't died.

"This isn't Molly's fault."

Sherlock stood up and walked to his best friend.

"She did what I asked of her. I wasn't sure if Moriarty was still out there. I wasn't sure if it was safe for everyone to know I was alive. I'm still not sure it is. There's a chance you could be in danger right now. If you're going to blame anyone for this… blame me, leave Molly out of it. She was only doing this to protect you."

John stared, once again, at Sherlock.

His eyes had suddenly turned cold.

John and Sherlock had seemed to have changed sides.

Sherlock's own eyes were full of emotion; John's shared nothing with the man in front of him.

John understood.

He knew deep down he understood.

But he was _angry_.

He was _hurt_.

And he wasn't about to just let this all go.

In a flash, before Sherlock could even realise what was going on, John's eyes were burning bright with that ember again and his fist was colliding with Sherlock's jaw.

"Even so, I just walked in to this room to find you and _my girlfriend_ in what looked like an almost kiss! What the fuck is that, Sherlock! You've never liked Molly! You always thought she was so dull!" John spat.

Molly gasped; she was staring up at the two now.

Sherlock was flexing his jaw, trying to ease the throbbing pain in it.

His eyes darkened as he caught John's gaze with his own.

"I just don't understand! She's my girlfriend, Sherlock! What are you trying to gain from this! I don't believe for one second, you actually like her! There's a reason for this!"

John's eyes then turned on to Molly.

He glared at her.

She shrunk back, timidly.

"I thought better of you, Molly. I never once thought you would hurt me. I never once thought you'd hurt anyone. I sure as hell never thought you'd be a woman who would _cheat_."

Molly tried to speak.

John held up his hand.

"I don't want to even hear it, Molly. I always knew you had a thing for Sherlock. I never once thought it would get in the way of our relationship."

John laughed bitterly to himself.

"But then again, I hadn't even known he was alive."

He shook his head.

His anger was simmering.

He looked away from both of them, his jaw jutting out in his disbelief.

"This is a lot to process. My so-called best friend is alive and my so-called girlfriend is a cheat."

He turned to look at Molly; his eyes showing nothing but sadness.

"I realised a long time ago, Molly, that _he _is your kryptonite and I thought one day I'd be able to rectify that. But before that happened, I honestly never believed I would be faced with a situation like this."

He looked down for a few moments, gathering his thoughts.

He then looked back up to them both.

His eyes moved, locking on Sherlock alone.

He stared at him for a few moments before speaking.

"Right now, I can't face you. I don't care if you were doing this to protect me and the others… you let me believe you were dead, Sherlock. It was pure hell and now that I know it could have been avoided pisses me off. I don't want to see you and I don't want to talk to you. Don't try to get in touch with me after I leave this flat tonight."

Sherlock didn't speak.

He gave John a curt nod.

He hadn't expected it any other way.

John's eyes then rolled over to Molly.

Molly looked up in to them and felt her head spin at what she saw there: anger, sadness, disbelief and worst of all… _disappointment_.

"I don't want to see you ever again, Molly Hooper. You are far from the person I believed you were."

Another bitter laugh slipped from his mouth.

"I hate you, Molly. That's all I can describe it as."

Molly's eyes began leaking further, her shoulders shaking in silent sobs.

"It's completely over, Molly. Goodbye."

He left the room without another word to either of them.

The last thing he heard before shutting the flats door was a heart wrenching sob coming from Molly.

It almost made him feel bad.

But, it _didn't_.

**Authors Note: **BANG! DONE! A whole hour before I originally planned it to be done. It's shorter than the previous chapter but I think it conveys everything I wanted it to do. So, I like it. I know John seems a little bit off but it's allowed. He's upset and confused. His whole world has just been turned upside down when he was finally getting back on track. If anyone's thinking John was harsh with Molly when it should have been Sherlock who received that reaction, I'll let you know why. Molly has become John's rock. He thought the world of her and she turned out to be a fraud that could have saved him all the hurt he has faced. He is so angry and hurt with her. He's in love with her and he just can't believe she would do that with him. Sherlock he understands more… its Sherlock after all. He knows what he's like.

Once again, I'm gonna shamelessly plug.

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER IF YOU HAVE ONE: ECCENTRICPETAL. ;)

Petal.


	9. Can I Make It Better?

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **I'm just feeling incredibly inspired right now. I'm dying for you to all see my plan unfold. Before I start writing this next chapter, I feel like setting out a competition to you all. The prize of this competition will be a hint to what one of my future chapters is going to be about. The chapter I'm feeling to give this hint about is the final one! ;D  
>If you wish to enter this competition, what you must do is review, PM or tweet me your theories on where my story is going. The one with what the idea I like the most will get to know my hint. Your answer might not be the actual ending. So, you can make it funny or serious. I just want to see your thoughts. :)<p>

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine: Can I Make It Better?<strong>

_One month passed_.

Sherlock was fine.

He wasn't missing John.

Sherlock missed no one.

Sherlock didn't miss talking to Molly.

No.

Sherlock was _fine_.

He had to be fine.

He was determined to stay fine.

* * *

><p><em>Two months passed<em>.

Molly was exchanging pleasantries with him again.

She wasn't opening up to him though.

She wasn't being friendly anymore.

Sherlock hadn't heard a word from John.

He hadn't expected John to stay mad at him for so long.

He thought they would have been fine after a week or so.

He didn't understand why John wasn't speaking to him still.

He asked Molly if she had heard from John the other day.

She'd stared at him; her eyes had turned glass-like.

She'd got up from the couch and went to her bedroom.

She didn't speak to him for another week.

* * *

><p><em>Three months passed<em>.

Things were starting to get back to normal with Molly and him.

She was beginning to forgive him for what he had done.

Finally.

He _had _missed her.

He'd felt rather… _alone_.

That was something he didn't freely admit to.

He'd clarified that it was safe now.

Sherlock Holmes made his way back in to the spotlight.

The press welcomed him back with open arms.

He was a 'hero' again.

It's a shame his _best friend _didn't think so.

But, it was ok.

Lestrade was throwing cases at him again.

He'd handled them on his own before.

It was no different now.

He did _miss _John's pathetic blog titles though…

* * *

><p><em>Four months passed<em>.

He'd seen John in the street the other day.

John had simply stilled for a few moments and then nodded curtly to him.

That was… an improvement?

Or so Sherlock hoped.

Molly was becoming unbearable to live with.

She was always so… upset.

For the life of him, he couldn't understand why.

It was frustrating.

She seemed to have spiralled back down since last month.

It was _confusing_.

* * *

><p>Finally, the <em>fifth month passed<em>.

Sherlock had had enough.

Molly was still mopping around her flat most days.

She barely went in to work.

Bart's was starting to get pissed off now.

They'd even set her a letter.

John still hadn't contacted Sherlock.

Sherlock really didn't get it.

This was outrageous now.

It had been _five _months!

What he had done hadn't been _that _bad.

He sighed and ran a hand over his face.

Sherlock Holmes was _bored_.

London was so calm.

London was so peaceful.

Where on earth were on the criminals and psycho's?

Did they not know how bored he was?

He looked towards Molly from where he was sat on _his _chair in her living room.

He began to study her appearance.

She had been beautiful the last time he had seen her like this.

Now?

Now she looked an absolute mess.

Her hair was greasy.

She hadn't showered for three days.

There were dark circles beneath her eyes.

Her lips were dry.

Her figure was looking thin.

The pyjama's that had once fitted her body perfectly now hung off her frame in a disturbing way.

How had he been missing this?

He knew why.

He'd been so wrapped up in an exciting case Lestrade had thrown his way, he'd forgotten all about Molly.

He sighed.

That wasn't how you were supposed to be with someone you _cared_ about.

Even Sherlock knew that.

He stood up and moved to sit beside her on the couch.

She jumped from her thoughts and looked at him with a quizzical brow.

"Sherlock?"

"How much alcohol have you consumed in the last two days, Molly?"

He knew she wasn't drunk.

But her breath smelt stale of the awful cheap wine she had brought from Tesco's.

She'd done quite a good job at covering up what she had been doing while he was away but she'd left three minute wine stains on the coffee table. She must have had quite a bit to drink to have missed the glass. Molly was all about precision; she was pathologist after all. She was nothing but through with her analysis of cause of death.

She looked down at her hands.

"About five bottles." She murmured.

He nodded.

He showed no emotions.

In this moment, he didn't want her to think he was judging her.

"Why, Molly?"

The gentleness of his voice shocked her and she looked up, unsure of if it was really Sherlock Holmes in front of her.

It was.

He looked the same as always; devastatingly good looks, immaculate dress, and a brain the size of the world they inhabited.

Molly looked away from him as she answered and just barely whispered her words.

"I miss John."

Sherlock's chest hurt.

He knew the feeling.

He wasn't one to admit this often.

Although in the past couple months, it wouldn't seem that way.

But he was really starting to miss his best friend.

It wasn't as if John thought him dead this time.

It was more like John wished he was dead.

It _hurt_.

He just wanted everything to go back the way it was before.

Before he did the ridiculous thing and jumped.

His mind zoned back in to focusing on Molly and he sighed.

"I know you do, Molly."

Wasn't that the kind of thing you were supposed to say in these situations?

"I wish I could blame you, Sherlock. But, I knew. I knew I was with John and yet I still let you do everything you wanted us to do."

She let out a heavy sigh and looked up at him.

"I gave in to some petty fantasy and I've no idea why."

She looked away, tears in her eyes.

Sherlock said nothing.

He just allowed her to collect herself.

She looked back towards him with fierceness in her eyes; fierceness he had never believed Molly Hooper capable off.

"I loved him, Sherlock."

Sherlock wasn't sure why, but his chest tightened.

He almost couldn't breathe.

Only _almost_.

"You did?"

Molly wasn't looking at him anymore.

She was staring at one of the walls.

He assumed she was in a memory of her and John.

"I did." She stated, not truly there.

He moved in closer to her.

"You know I understand, right Molly?"

Her eyes snapped to his.

Her pulse began to quicken.

Why was he so close to her?

"You do?"

She didn't think he did.

He wasn't in love with John.

John hadn't told him he hated him.

John hadn't told him that he never wanted to see him again.

Sherlock Holmes was _wrong_.

He didn't understand what she was feeling.

Sherlock nodded his head.

"I've lost my one and only friend, Molly."

Molly would have been hurt by the fact Sherlock didn't class her as a friend but she felt too numb to be hurt over something so stupid.

"At least you can get him back, Sherlock."

Molly's voice was broken.

Her eyes were tearing and she was staring in to Sherlock's.

He felt the ever present need to take her in his arms.

He refrained.

"John didn't mean what he said to you, Molly."

She sniffled.

"How do you know that?"

Tears began to fall.

"I know John."

He lifted a finger to wipe one of her tears away.

He hadn't even noticed he'd done it.

She stilled.

His finger was still on her cheek.

Her eyes never left his.

Her tears had already stopped falling.

His finger began to stroke her cheek in a soft, circular motion.

His eyes locked on hers.

Subconsciously, they were both leaning in like before.

Neither one could process a single thought.

All they could do was let their bodies take over.

Molly's eyes fluttered shut.

Sherlock's continued watching her.

They were mere inches apart.

They were still moving.

Deep down, they both knew there was no going back.

There was no going back even if John walked through Molly's flat door again.

But that didn't happen.

Nothing happened.

Nothing happened to interrupt Sherlock Holmes' lips connecting with Molly Hooper's in the lightest kiss either had ever experienced.

**Authors Note: **Wahey! They kissed! Finally or what! It's sort of sad though. I won't lie. I had fun writing this chapter. I really did! I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know?

By the way, I forgot! The closing date for my competition is going to be tomorrow at one (UK time). one in the afternoon by the way. If I don't get home from Sixthform early tomorrow I will be home at one and therefore I'll be able to judge. If you want to enter on twitter and don't know my name its eccentricpetal. I hope I get some entries! Good luck to anyone who does enter!

Petal.


	10. He Didn't See Nor Observe

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **So, once I've finished writing this chapter up and it's posted I am going to be having a look through the competition entries and pick my winner. I hope you enjoy this chapter. :)  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Not mine; never will be mine! =(

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten: He Didn't See Nor Observe. <strong>

Sherlock took control of the kiss.

His tongue running along her lower lip in a gentle, pleading way.

It didn't take a second for Molly to part her lips and allow their two tongues to tangle in a bigger web than they'd already made.

Although, the kiss became more desperate, there was still a tender edge to it.

Sherlock gripped Molly's cheeks in his hands, softly; his thumbs caressing the silken skin coating her cheekbones.

Molly's hands held on to his arms, not wanting him to pull away from her.

Both were so wrapped up in the kiss.

They forgot everything of the world they resided in.

They forgot every little detail of their lives.

They forgot every minute problem they had.

They simply got lost in one another; taking _comfort _in one another.

The world did not seem like such a cruel place anymore.

That was until Molly snapped to attention.

She ripped her lips from his.

Her eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlines of an oncoming vehicle.

She tried to stutter out some words.

They all seemed to evade her.

What was she doing?

This was Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock Holmes the world's one and only consulting detective.

Sherlock Holmes the man she had had an insane school girl crush on.

Sherlock Holmes the best friend of the man she was _in love_ with.

She didn't say another word as she jumped up from the couch and ran to the sanctuary of her bedroom.

* * *

><p>Sherlock watched her run.<p>

He wasn't quite sure why but the look in her eyes as she stared at him, before running, left him with a numbness filling the entirety of his body.

Why had she run?

She'd been enjoying the kiss.

He could tell.

Elevated pulse; the way she was gripping on to him; how quickly she let him in to the depths of her quite pleasant mouth.

He raised an eyebrow and sat himself back on the couch.

Pleasant mouth?

Her mouth was far from being pleasant.

It was acceptable but not enjoyable.

He checked his pulse.

The signs were all there.

He'd _enjoyed _kissing Molly and her less-than adequate mouth.

Why was that?

He did not know.

There was no logic to behind why he had.

He sighed, aloud.

Why was he feeling so numb?

He rarely felt emotions.

But this, this was different to any of those petty things he'd felt before.

It almost _hurt_.

But only almost.

Usually, he just felt nothing.

Like he was empty.

This.

This was new.

This to him felt like something was missing.

He didn't like feeling this way.

It was off putting.

He ran a hand over his face and looked around the living room.

He needed clues.

There had to be some clues in this room.

He saw nothing.

He stood up and began to pace.

The numbness had erupted inside him when he seen the look in Molly's eyes.

What had been in Molly's eyes?

It was hard to pin point.

This wasn't his division of expertise.

This was to do with _emotions_, _feelings_.

He didn't do this kind of thing.

He didn't _feel_.

Well, not exactly.

He was supposed to be nothing but a man made of metal.

He sighed.

What was that in Molly's eyes?

He searched the depths of his mind palace; trying to see if there was anything he could find that would help him.

She had looked… _sad_?

Why had she looked sad?

She had no reason to be sad.

Well, she did… but not in that moment.

Perhaps it wasn't sadness.

Despair?

Maybe.

He thought not though.

She had seemed a little disappointed.

Disappointed with what though?

His kiss.

He rolled his eyes.

He had kissed her to perfection.

He had studied her.

He had given her everything he knew she'd like.

Definitely not that.

Disappointed in him?

He shook his head.

No, it wasn't that.

He sat down on his chair in her living room, and brought his knees to his chin.

He stilled for a millisecond.

What was that, that had just flickered through his mind?

Disappointed in _herself_.

He frowned, a noticeable one that was etching a deep line down his forehead.

What could she possibly be disappointed in herself for?

He sat for a few minutes.

His thoughts were silent.

Confusion had taken over.

He closed his eyes and took in a steadying breath.

He then saw it.

His knees slipped down from his chin and to the floor.

His eyes slowly reopening.

She was disappointed in herself for giving in to _him_.

Why was she disappointed in herself for that?

Well, it was quite simple really.

She was in love with John Watson.

He hadn't even realised it.

He hadn't even seen it.

Let alone got a chance to observe it.

How _idiotic _of him.

He sighed, once again.

He had once believed love to be nothing but a weakness.

He still did believe that.

But, there was an exception to that belief.

That exception came in the form of Molly Hooper.

Love made Molly stronger.

He'd noticed it in the months Molly and John had dated.

The thing that made Molly Hooper weak was something he didn't want to believe.

The thing that made Molly Hooper weak was simply… _himself_.

Sherlock Holmes was Molly Hooper's weakness.

That was why she had looked so disappointed.

That was why he had felt numbness take control of his body.

Subconsciously, he had realised it.

And he hadn't liked it.

His fingers began to drum against the chairs armrest.

His thoughts lingering on one thing: Molly was in love with John.

His fingers stopped.

His hand gripped on to the armrest.

His fingers starting to turn white with how hard he was gripping it.

His chest hurt; he wanted to claw at it.

He felt suffocated; why couldn't he draw in breath?

He looked towards the stairs that Molly had escaped to in what felt like moments ago.

He stared there for a while, trying to collect his thoughts.

It was time.

He closed his eyes.

He knew it was time.

It was time to analyse the thing he had been dodging since Molly had first told him about her date with John.

He _knew_.

He had _always _known.

He knew what caring felt like.

He felt it for John, for Mrs Hudson… heck, he even felt it for Lestrade.

But this, this _thing_ he felt for Molly… it wasn't caring.

It was _more _than that.

He didn't want it to be more than that.

It was too complicated to deal with.

His life was too complex for this to even be a part of it.

But then again, he could simply admit it to himself but not let it get in the way of his life.

He couldn't allow this to get out.

It would affect his cases.

People would _use _it against him.

He would not allow that.

He just… wouldn't.

His eyes reopened.

He lent back in to the chair more.

It was now or never.

On his lips a bitter smirk drew up.

He felt the same way he did when jumping from St. Bart's roof.

He raised his hands and pressed his palms and fingers together.

He stared at the wall opposite him.

…

He, Sherlock Holmes, _liked_ Molly Hooper.

…

He, Sherlock Holmes, liked Molly Hooper as someone more than who you just care about.

…

He, Sherlock Holmes, had _feelings _for Molly Hooper.

He scoffed at the word.

But he knew it was true.

There was nothing he could do about it.

He'd just _ignore _it.

* * *

><p>And that was what he had done.<p>

For the next month after the lone confession, he and Molly had not spoken a word.

She had gone back to work, taking extra shifts and claiming they were to catch up on pay that she had missed.

They both knew it was a lie.

She even knew that he knew what she was doing.

But neither one said a word about it.

He concentrated on any case that came his way, no matter how dull it was.

It got him out of the flat.

They simply skirted around one another without complaint.

During that sixth month after the night John had discovered he was a live, and a little more than that, he received a text message.

_You on a case? My blog is in need of an update. –JW_

Sherlock hadn't shown any emotion.

But to the empty flat, which was littered with his findings of his current case, it was obvious he was overjoyed at being forgiven by his best friend.

_Yes. Be there in 20. –SH_

And that was that.

He packed up every single one of his items and took a taxi to 221B, Baker Street.

He didn't leave a note.

He didn't even text a goodbye.

That night when Molly came home, she didn't even notice his departure.

It wasn't until she was lying in bed that night, her thoughts on nothing but John that something clicked inside of her.

Something that almost felt like gratefulness that he was gone.

**Authors Note: **Chapter ten all written up for you right there! I hope you liked it. I hope it didn't depress the crap out of you too much. I like it. I'm so excited for the next chapter which I am hoping to write up later tonight. It's one I've been dying to throw your way! You're all going to _love _it (perhaps). ;) Any who, please review and let me know what you think! I'm going to go and judge my competition now!

Petal.


	11. Two Months and Three Days

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **Third times a charm, they do say. I'm feeling much more alive and awake now. I want to write this chapter tonight before I sleep. You can thank my inspiration to actually get off my arse and write to Gossip Girl – it came back in the UK tonight and put me in a splendid mood.  
>I cannot get over how close I am to reaching three things tonight: 1) 100 reviews, 2) 10,000 hits, and 3) 20,000 words. It's amazing. Anyways, thank-you so much guys and without further rambling for me – my next chapter (the one I've been so excited to give you)!<br>**Disclaimer: **I sadly own nothing but if I marry Benedict Cumberbatch in the future, I will be coming back to rectify this just because I can! ;)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: Two Months and Three Days.<strong>

It had been two months and three days since Sherlock had been back at 221B.

And it was on the day of those two months and three days that Sherlock finally felt like everything was going back the way it had been before the jump.

John and himself had just gotten off a case and were currently sitting in the living room of their flat, reveling silently in their victory against a terrible injustice. Well, that's what John was doing; Sherlock was more gloating at the fact he had solved another.

On their return, Mrs Hudson, who swore to them that she was _not _their housekeeper, brewed them up a lovely, well needed cup of tea.

The two boys sat, peacefully, sipping away at the drink.

Both of their thoughts had strolled off in to different directions: Sherlock wondering what his next case would entail and John wondering how to start off the conversation he wished to have with Sherlock.

He decided to be blunt about it.

He looked towards his best friend and then placed his tea mug on the table besides his chair.

"Sherlock," came his voice.

Sherlock didn't turn his head to look at him and by the look in his eyes, he wasn't truly aware of what John had just said.

"Yes?"

"I forgive you."

Sherlock's eyes snapped to his own in that cold, calculated stare of his.

"That was made quite clear two months and three days ago, John."

John rolled his eyes.

"Not about that."

Sherlock was gone again; lost in a thought that appeared incredible.

"About what then?"

"About… _Molly_."

John still wasn't comfortable speaking his ex-girlfriends name.

It was just… hard.

Sherlock lost focus and turned to look at John in disbelief.

"You're still mad about that?"

"No."

John shook his head.

"I _was _mad about that. I just told you I've forgiven you."

Sherlock stared at his friend and then said the one thing he thought was appropriate in these types of situations.

"Thank-you."

Sherlock went back in to his thoughts, cataloguing everything that had happened on the case they had just finished.

"I want to talk about it, Sherlock."

Sherlock groaned inside.

John wanted to _talk _about what had happened.

He knew what that talk would involve:

_Feelings_.

He was fed up with bloody feelings!

They were getting in the way of everything and he'd quite frankly had enough.

But, he sighed and turned his attention to his best friend.

He knew what he had done was wrong.

He might as well _indulge_ him.

"Sure, John."

He smiled.

John frowned.

"Seriously, Sherlock."

Sherlock's smile slipped from his lips.

"I want to know why you did it, Sherlock."

Sherlock's throat felt tight.

It felt as if he was about to choke.

He ran his tongue over his lips to wet them; they still felt dry.

"Do what?"

John glared at him.

"You know bloody full well what I'm on about."

Sherlock looked away from him, setting his jaw in to lock.

He was trying to come up with a reason for what he had done.

He couldn't bare to tell John the truth.

Nothing seemed to be a good enough reason.

He turned his head to John.

His eyes were shut as he tried to collect himself.

"I didn't think you and Molly were good for one another. I decided to do the only thing I could about it. I did it because I… because I-I _care _about you both."

John stayed quiet.

Sherlock hadn't spoken much but John just couldn't seem to process the words.

Sherlock had wanted to break them up because he _cared _about them.

Since when had he cared about Molly?

That was just ridiculous.

John was beginning to fume inside.

Sherlock had broken them up because he thought he knew what was _best _for them both.

John was in a state of _conniption _now.

The man may be a genius but he had no idea about _love_ or _relationships_.

The man had _no right_ to decide what was best for him and Molly.

"How bloody dare you, Sherlock!" John spat.

Sherlock flinched.

So much for being forgiven.

Sherlock looked on at his friend, keeping his eyes guarded and getting ready for the attack he was about to face.

He could handle it.

He highly doubted John would punch him again.

"You had absolutely no right in deciding what is good for me… or Molly even! I can't believe you actually took that decision in to your own hands! I thought being the genius you are you would have realised you didn't have enough knowledge on the subject to make an actual decision!"

John was standing up now and pacing the floor in what Sherlock thought looked like a predator getting ready to catch it's pray.

It was rather amusing, really.

Sherlock being the pray and all.

He almost laughed out loud.

Only almost.

He wasn't that _naïve_ when it came to social interactions.

Sherlock sat there watching John.

He still didn't speak up.

He just let John get it all out.

"I loved her, Sherlock! I know you're not capable of feeling anything but I am! And I loved Molly Hooper! She picked up the pieces that you kindly left shattered! She made me feel whole again! She made me feel things I never even knew possible! She brought me back to life again! She…"

Sherlock cut him off, right there.

"Then why are you still mad at her?"

John stopped pacing.

His eyes cut towards his friend with a glare.

Sherlock continued.

"It's quite obvious from the little rant you're giving me right now that you don't think she's the one to blame like you previously stated. It's me you count as the bad guy and you've already forgiven me. So, why are you letting Molly Hooper suffer? You know she is. You were there at the morgue during the case. It wasn't hard for anyone to see that she was drinking far too much lately. She looked as if she hadn't slept in about a week and hadn't showered in about two. Her clothes needed ironing and she looked as if her skin was just about covering her bones, which shows us she isn't eating well."

John was quiet.

He was shocked.

He was trying to digest everything Sherlock had just told him.

In all truth, John hadn't noticed.

He had been so caught up with trying to pretend Molly wasn't there that he hadn't taken a proper glance at her.

Was _he _really the cause of such a thing?

He swallowed and a gulp sounded from his throat as he looked at Sherlock.

"She's really in that much of a state?"

Sherlock frowned.

John was more oblivious than he'd previously thought.

He decided not to bring that up right now.

He probably would get a punch for that.

"Yes."

John sunk back down on to the seat he had just vacated and threw his head in to his hands.

"Oh, what have I done, Sherlock? What if she still hasn't eaten! She's on her way to dying!"

Sherlock was pretty sure that wasn't the case.

Molly wasn't dumb.

"I'm sure she's fine."

"I was never mad at Molly. That's what done me in. When I s—When I saw you… two… together that day, I instantly forgave Molly. It frightened me. What kind of person does that? She looked as if she was cheating on me with my best friend and I just forgave her on the spot. It angered me and I said some hateful things. I haven't been able to face her. I haven't wanted to face her. I didn't pay attention to her that day at the morgue. I forced my everything in to believing she wasn't there when she needed me more than anything. I put her in that state, Sherlock. _Me_. The man who is supposed to love her and I've broken her instead all because I was frightened of my feelings for her."

John looked up at Sherlock.

His face said it all and Sherlock wasn't even sure what he could read on it.

All he knew was one thing: he simply got it.

He gave John his best attempt at a smile.

"Go."

That was the single word that left Sherlock's lips and it strangely hurt.

He was letting go of something he hadn't even known he'd been holding on to.

He was letting go of _Molly_.

He didn't understand that.

He'd never had Molly.

He'd chosen to ignore his feelings.

So, why was he letting go?

He was trying to figure that out while he watched John grab his coat and leave the flat.

* * *

><p>John raced down the stairs and hailed a taxi as fast as he could.<p>

"St. Bart's." He ordered the cabbie.

He was sure Molly would be there.

It was her shift time.

His foot nervously ticked as he watched London pass by the taxi window.

In what felt like forever, the taxi finally arrived and John chucked the money at him.

Not caring if he had change to come.

Like he had at Baker Street, he raced in to the hospital and located the stairs in which led to the morgue.

He ignored everyone around him.

He didn't care how stupid he looked.

He knew he was nothing like a leading man.

But, he just didn't care.

His thoughts were solely on Molly.

He was determined to set things right.

He smashed through the door of the morgue; it was more dramatic than the times Sherlock had done it.

Molly let out a gasp and dropped the equipment she had just been cleaning off from her latest autopsy number.

She turned around to see who had created the commotion.

Her eyes widened at who she saw.

Was this a dream?

She felt faint.

But perhaps, that was because she hadn't eaten more than an apple in the past couple days.

"John?" She whispered.

Sherlock had been right.

Molly looked awful.

He felt _sick_.

This was because of _him_.

He had made Molly look this way.

The woman who had always been full of such life now looked like one of the bodies she worked on daily.

He took a few more steps closer to her until he was stood in front of her.

"Molly, I don't even know where to begin. Please, don't say a word. Just let me speak."

Molly stared at him.

She wasn't sure she could actually comprehend any words right now to speak.

She licked her lips and waited for him to start.

John got his thoughts together and took a steadying breath.

That run had taken it out of him.

He was seriously unfit.

He gripped his side to calm the stitch growing there and began to speak.

"That day I found you and Sherlock together. I said things I didn't mean. I was out of line and I shouldn't have said them. I wasn't mad at you, Molly. I was angry with myself. The first thing that went through my head, after I thought that guy on your couch looked strangely like Sherlock, was that I forgive you. It angered me. I didn't understand it. How could I forgive you when it clearly looked like you were about to cheat on me? So, I took it out on you. I said everything I could to hurt you. It was wrong and I'm sorry."

Molly tried to speak but John held his hand up to her.

"Let me continue, please Molly. I tried to hate you for all those months. But, I found it to be impossible. All I wanted to do was hold you, kiss you, and tell you how much I loved you. It angered me more. I couldn't see you. I just couldn't. That's why when I came here to the morgue with Sherlock two weeks ago, I completely ignored you. It took everything I had to do it. But, I did it. I managed to pretend you weren't here. Oh Molly! That was my biggest mistake of all. It wasn't until today that I realised that. I confronted Sherlock about everything today and we came back to the subject of our visit a couple weeks ago, and he described to me how you were doing. I was in shock. I couldn't believe I had failed to notice all of that. I'd fought so hard to keep you out all because I didn't understand my feelings. I didn't understand how I could just forgive you without even hearing an explanation as to what was going on, and because of that I left you here to suffer. I left you alone, Molly. You were there for me after Sherlock 'died.' You helped complete me again, got me back on track and I failed to do the same with you. But, I'm here now, Molly. I'm going to fix this. I swear to you. I am going to fix this."

John's voice was filled with so much emotion.

Molly didn't know what to say.

She didn't know what to do.

She felt faint again and so she gripped on to the counter beside her.

Tears were springing to her eyes.

_Oh, please! Don't cry! _She tried willing herself.

She stared at him.

She wanted to say something.

She didn't know what she could possibly say to everything he had just confessed.

"Molly, I am so, so sorry for everything and I swear to you I can be better. I can be stronger and braver. I won't leave you alone like this again. I'm going to make up for everything that I have done to you, Molly. I promise."

Molly watched him with confused eyes as he began sink down on to his knee.

What was going on?

She really didn't have a clue.

She just watched.

"Molly, this is far from romantic but I don't care." John spoke softly.

"I don't have a ring. I hadn't really planned this. But Molly, I know this is what is right for the both of us. I can feel it. I hope you feel the same because right now, I am kneeling on this floor and it is rather painful and I would hate for it to be for no reason – don't let that pressure you in to this!"

John laughed at his last words before he took Molly's hand in to his own and looked her deep in to the eyes, and asked her the words she had long ago started to believe she would never hear in her life time.

"Molly Hooper, would you do me the greatest honour of my life in becoming my wife?"

**Authors Note: **Oh no, I didn't! ;) There is a chapter I have been waiting to give you all for so long! It happens to be the one I've written most for! I've worked extremely hard on this and I feel like I've got it right now. I really hope you like it as much as I do! Isn't it just the sweetest thing… ever! I'd marry John… just saying.

I'm sorry to be giving you some news like this right now, but there is a possibility I won't be updating for a couple days as not only do I have other things to do but tomorrow I usually am far too tired to want to write. It's my only full day at Sixthform and I have so much work to do while there tomorrow that I'm going to be like a zombie when I get home.

Please don't hate me for leaving you with a cliff-hanger like this! I didn't do it on purpose… or did I? ;)

Finally, please leave me reviews! Honestly, they will make me so happy and may even influence me to update this story tomorrow. I love you guys!

Petal.


	12. Say It, Say It, Again

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **I have decided that my teachers must want me to finish this story as, yet again, my day has changed and I'm home early. Good thing for me; good thing for you. So, this now means there is no cliffhanger for days on end! Aren't you all lucky!  
>Now, to all those of you who are wondering about the pairing in this story: I haven't gotten it wrong. I know exactly what I am doing. So please, just remember that I've been having this plan from the beginning. I know where I am going. Have a little faith in me.<br>Thank-you for all the reviews; I now have over 100. Thank-you for all the hits; I now have over 10,000.  
>Without further ado, chapter twelve awaits you! :)<br>**Disclaimer: **No. I do not own. I'm on this website… why would I be if I owned?

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: Say It; Say It, Again.<strong>

Sherlock could not figure out why Molly and John had summoned him here.

He was staring at them as they sat on the couch, opposite his chair in 221B.

There was nothing physically obvious about what was to come.

Other than the fact the pair was back together and that Molly looked healthier once again.

Even so, why would they want to tell him that?

Why would they think he'd even care?

He sighed.

They weren't speaking.

They looked nervous.

It was all beginning to _irritate _him.

He glared his cold eyes in to their direction.

"Oh for heaven sake!" He growled in exasperation.

"Just spit it out, John!"

John looked a little timid.

How strange.

He wasn't usually this way around him.

He was the one person he knew that would quite happily give back to him.

His eyes fell on to Molly.

Yes.

She looked much better today.

She was starting to gain her beauty back.

She no longer looked thin, as if any breath could be her last.

She was looking at John, expectantly.

When nothing came from his lips, she turned her eyes on to his own.

"John and I have an announcement."

"I figured it was something along those lines, Molly."

She rolled his eyes.

Sherlock's own scanned every detail of her, taking in to his head everything about her in this moment.

That was when his eyes locked on to the necklace, dangling from her neck.

He squinted a little, not noticed by the pair on the couch.

Was that what he thought it was?

His eyes narrowed.

What had John… _done_?

Molly's voice snapped his attention back to her as he listened to the words, he never thought he'd hear coming from her mouth in his entire lifetime.

"John and I are engaged, Sherlock."

His entire form went cold.

Was this some kind of _sick joke_?

Engaged?

Did they actually know what that meant?

They were tying themselves together for however long they would live.

Anyone who did that with someone was an utter moron.

But these two?

These two he had expected better from.

He hadn't even expected them to get back together.

He thought they would just reconcile their differences and become friends like before they had started dating.

When he'd discovered they were back together.

He accepted it.

He thought they were being stubborn and so he would just let their choice run its course, so they could see what he already knew.

But to have done _this_.

Well, that was beyond any of his understanding.

He stared at them, his eyes narrowed visibly.

He didn't approve.

He wasn't going to act as if he did.

"I know you two aren't the brightest but you're far from being idiots. So, what the hell are you doing?" He growled at them.

Molly's mouth hung open in absolute disbelief and John sat quietly on the couch.

He hadn't expected anything else but this.

"How dare you, Sherlock." Molly whispered.

Her voice full of so many emotions that if she had spoken any louder, her voice would have cracked.

"Why can't you ever just be nice? You don't have to be to me, but John is your best friend!"

She stood up now, coming closer to him.

The light caught that godforsaken ring around her neck and his eyes locked on to it.

It was a terrible ring, if he were honest.

It looked as if John hadn't even picked it for Molly.

How _pathetic_.

Sherlock glared up at Molly.

He didn't know why but he found himself standing up and walking towards her.

Perhaps to intimidate?

To make her back down?

It didn't make her though; she continued stepping forward to him.

"We've had this conversation before, Molly. I'm not going to lie just to save you all the hurt. You know me and you know that's not who I am. I think you both are being ridiculous about all this. I'm not going to silently sit by at let you continue on. You at least deserve to know the truth, and you do know the truth! You're seeing but as usual, you aren't observing!" He growled at her.

"And how do you know that, Sherlock?"

"Know what?"

"How do you know John and I aren't going to work?" She glared at him.

"I've already told you!"

"Well, tell me it again! I'm sorry I'm not as smart as the wonderful Sherlock Holmes"

She spat.

He continued his glare.

"You see but don't observe!"

She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Sherlock. You say this about all the mere mortals. Unless you can see in to the future, you know nothing!"

John stood up.

He knew there was no stopping them.

He left the room and went down the stairs to Mrs Hudson.

She'd brew him up a nice pot of tea.

* * *

><p>Sherlock stepped closer to her.<p>

His whole presence in the room domineering; Molly didn't back down.

"I take what I observe and add it all up, Molly. Let me tell you exactly what I see here right now. That ring around your neck is far from being your taste. It's too big; you'd prefer something much more delicate, and gentle on the eyes. The day John took you on your first date, you were ill from it. He didn't even check with you to see if you liked curry. He did what he thought would please you and clearly showed he doesn't know you. That headband on your head is an obvious present from the man in question and by the way you keep scratching your head, I'm going to say you don't like it. When you would come home from John's on Sundays there was always something off about. It took me awhile to figure it out but it was clear you were unsatisfied – physically and emotionally. My apologies for thinking that if you added all them up it meant that they were someone you shouldn't consider being with, especially not for what is a _lifetime _commitment!"

Molly's anger subsided for a moment.

She stared at him in amazement.

It really was quite something how he could do that.

She narrowed her eyes on him again; letting her anger bubble inside again.

It may have been amazing but it was rude, and it upset her.

They were supposed to be _friends _and yet he couldn't even accept the choices she made.

She wanted this.

She was happy.

Wasn't that good enough, right now?

She had been upset for so long.

Why was he trying to spoil it?

She took a step towards him, they were so close now.

"What is your problem! Why can't you ever say something nice! Why do you always have to be so hurtful with every goddamn word that slips from your mouth! Why can't you just be happy that at the moment I'm happy? That Johns happy! Why do you always want to ruin everything! Don't try and tell me it's to show off how smart you are, and how inferior we are compared to you! Because it's not! It's just not!" She screamed at him.

Sherlock paused.

She was… _right_.

Why was she right?

How could she be right?

Why did he always do this?

Why was this always his reaction?

He didn't want to show off his intelligence.

He didn't want to make anyone feel inferior.

So why did he always do this?

Why did he always do this to _Molly_?

Why did he always do this to Molly when it was about _John_?

He didn't understand.

Yes.

He'd admitted his feelings to himself now.

But, he was ignoring them.

It couldn't be that.

He frowned.

What had set him off?

He was fine when he'd discovered they were back together.

What was so different about now?

…

He _knew_.

…

He knew exactly what was different this time.

Before, he believed they'd just grow apart.

Realise that a break up between them was inevitable.

But now, now they were getting _married_.

That was a true commitment that he knew both John and Molly valued.

That meant they didn't plan on breaking up.

That meant they thought they were going to last.

He didn't _like_ that.

Why didn't he like that?

It couldn't be because of his feelings.

It just couldn't be.

But what if it was?

"I just can't take it, Sherlock! I'm fed up of this! I don't know how much more of this I can take!" Molly cried.

Sherlock frowned.

"I just don't understand, Sherlock! Can you ever just stop being cruel!"

"Stop being cruel, Molly? You think this is cruel, Molly? You know what's cruel? Watching you with John! It's so irritating watching you two! You're prolonging something that's inevitable! I can't stand watching it! I hate watching it because you're going to get hurt! I can't watch you get hurt! I love you, Molly!"

Molly had never seen Sherlock this way before.

It was not him.

He was so… _shaken _up.

What was this?

What had he just said?

It _wasn't_ him!

She just didn't understand.

"What did you say?"

Sherlock stared at her straight on.

"You heard me, Molly."

"Say it again.

"Say what again?"

"You know what."

"I love you."

**Authors Note: **Ok, I'm not sure about this chapter at all. I feel like Sherlock is out of character. I got a bit distracted towards the end. So, if he is, please let me know and I'll be able to rewrite it. Anyways, please review! I'd really like to know everything you think right now.

Petal.


	13. Baby, You Can't Disguise It

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **Thank-you for all being honest with the previous chapter. That meant so much to me. I am sorry for doing what I did. I won't make the mistake of trying to write and babysit at the same time again. I'm going to try and rectify what I did in this chapter and hopefully, it'll make the last chapter clearer. So, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and let me know if I've done wrong again. It means so much to me.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I swear, I own zero.

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen: Baby, You Can't Disguise It. <strong>

Sherlock felt numb inside.

He wasn't one to control his words.

But, he was one to keep his emotions under wraps.

So, what was this?

Why had he said it?

He, honestly, couldn't decipher why.

Did he even _want_ to decipher why?

Perhaps, it would be better if he took a stand of ignorance against it.

It would be.

But, he couldn't.

Molly was stood in front of him.

She had heard him speak those… those… _stupid_words!

She was looking up at him.

There was a weird look in her eyes.

It almost looked as if she were going to… _cry_.

Why was she going to cry?

They were only words.

And this was _Molly_.

To Molly, those words meant everything.

He _knew_ that.

Molly was an emotional person.

Those words were what made her strong.

He had said them to her.

_Oh no._

"You don't mean that."

He stared at her, his emotions unreadable.

Did he mean them?

He frowned; it went unnoticed by Molly.

He couldn't mean those words.

Sherlock didn't love people.

He couldn't love people.

He became _attached_ to people, yes.

But love?

Love he wasn't capable of.

He'd _never _be capable of.

So, why had he said it?

His frown deepened; Molly noticed this time.

She tilted her head to the side, a movement that was barely there.

He couldn't fathom this out.

What had caused him to say such _meaningless _words?

"Sherlock…" Molly's voice sounded, concern lingering behind his name.

His eyes cleared of thought and locked on to her own.

"Hm?" He murmured.

"Why did you say… _that_? You didn't mean it."

Did her voice just tremble?

He thought so.

Why had he said it?

They were arguing.

He was trying to explain to her why he always deducted everything that would _ruin _their happiness.

He scoffed inside his head.

Ruin their happiness.

More like _save _their happiness.

They were so… _fickle_.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he grabbed at a flickering thought crossing his path.

…

That was _it_!

That was why he had said what he had!

He'd said it to _please_ her.

He _hadn't_ meant it.

They were fighting.

He wanted her to know he had her best intentions in mind.

He'd said it because she was an emotional person.

That was a way to break through to her.

A way to make her see things clearly.

A way to make her not _hate _him.

A way to get her back on his good side so the argument could stop.

He nodded.

That sounded reasonable.

That sounded _logical_.

He was a logical person, after all.

On some subconscious level he had known that that would be the thing to help him win the argument.

"No, I didn't mean it."

His eyes bore down in to Molly's.

His chest tightened when he noticed that a glass-like film was now covering those ever so pretty eyes.

He prayed she wouldn't cry.

He couldn't handle crying.

He especially could not handle a crying woman.

And especially not handle a crying woman he _cared _about.

He watched her.

No tears fell.

She seemed to force herself to stand up tall, gulp back what he presumed to be a sob and push away the glass sheen in her eyes.

She looked like the everyday Molly again.

He smiled on the inside.

The pretty Molly.

The pretty Molly he could handle.

"That's a very cruel thing to say, Sherlock."

He winced at her words.

She wasn't happy.

He didn't speak.

Right now, he knew not to speak his mind.

Instead, he stared down at her with an expression that revealed nothing.

His guard up.

"I don't love you anymore, Sherlock."

She stood her ground.

She stepped back from him as if to physically show that she had moved on from him.

"But, it's not nice to toy with a person's heart. It's not nice to give them thoughts of could have been. It's not nice to let them stand there and rethink their choices. It's just wrong, Sherlock."

Her tone was bitter and Sherlock didn't comprehend a word she spoke.

She said she didn't love him.

If she didn't love him why would his words affect her?

Why would she be second guessing her choice?

He thought she was being ridiculous.

He was about to speak but she quickly got there before him.

"I don't want to hear it, Sherlock. I don't want to hear your _logic_. You're not right about everything and logic isn't always the answer. I love John, Sherlock. I waited for you for too long. I waited so patiently for you to let me in. I wanted to be the one who could prove that you didn't have to keep a shield up, that you could let _feelings _in, that you could let _love _in… that you could let _someone _in."

She turned away from him for a few moments, tears stinging her vision.

She recollected herself before facing him and continuing.

She hadn't done the best of jobs; he could see so many emotions written on her face.

It… _hurt _him.

He didn't know why.

She wasn't hurt.

He could tell that.

But for some reason, seeing everything he couldn't deduce hurt.

Surprisingly, when she spoke her voice was strong and yet held a soft hilt.

"I wanted so badly to be your one. You've no idea how much I wanted… I just… you can't even see it!"

She moved her hands around in a frantic manner and stepped closer to him again.

"I once told you that I could see that you were sad, but there's something else I never told you. Here it is. I can see it, Sherlock. You can't hide it and you especially can't hide it from me. You're scared. You're scared of _sentiment_, of _emotions_, of _feeling_. You're scared because you don't understand them. You're scared because you can't physically deduce them. You're scared in case you do something wrong."

Molly sighed, stuck her chin out and looked down.

She scoffed before looking back to him.

Her voice was so soft, so tender with her next words.

"It sounds ridiculous when I say this out loud but all I ever wanted to do was… I just wanted to give your heart a break. I wanted you to see that I'm not like the rest, Sherlock. I wanted you to see that I could show you the unknown and make you see that it's nothing to be scared off."

She took another few moments before speaking again.

Her eyes were locked on his.

His chest was pounding.

Why was it pounding?

She was only talking.

Surely it wasn't because of her _words_.

His eyes narrowed at himself.

_Stupid sentiment_.

"All this time, you thought you could disguise it. But, some things you just cannot disguise, Sherlock. Maybe you could from yourself and the rest of the world, even John, but not from me. I bet you feel it. I bet you've always felt it. I bet you've always ignored it, pushed it aside. I don't know, maybe you let cases fill its place; perhaps, even drugs. I wouldn't be surprised. I bet, right now, you feel it. You feel… empty inside. Not completely, there's just something… _missing_. You've tried all your life to forget it and fill it with things you could understand. Sherlock, all I ever wanted to do was ease that ache."

He gulped.

"But, now it's too late. I'm fed up with the wait. I've moved on now. I'm with John. I'm going to marry, John. I'm giving him everything I could have given you. I love John, Sherlock. So, don't you even dare to try and speak of logic to me in this moment. I don't want to hear it."

She moved towards the coat stand and took in her hands her scarf and jacket.

Sherlock watched her as she began to put her things on.

He had no words for her.

Perhaps, he was trying to process it?

This wasn't his department of expertise, after all.

She looked towards him once her outwear was in place.

Her bag now resting on her shoulder.

"I hope you accept mine and John's decision of marriage, Sherlock. You know he's going to want you there as his best man."

She smiled.

"I'd never let him down, Molly."

She nodded her head, smile brightening.

"I know, Sherlock."

She moved towards the flats door.

When she reached it, she turned towards him.

"But, you and I both know that he'd rather you there not just for him but because you support the choice."

"What about you?"

"You're not my best friend."

"But do you still want me there if I don't accept it?"

"I want you there because it'll make John happy."

"Will it make you happy?"

"Whatever will make John happy will make me happy, to an extent."

Sherlock nodded.

He didn't understand.

How could someone be happy because another person was?

Molly spoke again.

"I'll be going now, Sherlock. John and I have plans to look at churches."

Sherlock's gut twisted.

"Goodbye, Molly."

"Goodbye, Sherlock."

The door to 221B shut and he listened to clicking of her shoes against the stairs.

He continued listening until he was sure John and Molly were out of Baker Street.

He sunk down on to his chair in a manner so unlike Sherlock Holmes.

His hands were in his hair.

He slowly began to bring his knees to his chin.

There was only one thought on his mind.

One that confused him entirely.

He'd been unsure about things before.

But, they were always out of his knowledge.

_This_.

This was something he _knew_.

Or once knew, as it appeared right now.

As he sat in his flat, in his chair, he couldn't say if he knew the answer or not anymore.

There seemed no way of figuring it out.

There seemed to be no way he could go about figuring it out.

His mind didn't spring off in to different directions that would lead him to the answer.

No, instead all his mind saw were the words flashing across his vision in a taunting manner.

_Did Molly still love him?_

_Did Molly even have feelings for him now?_

No answer came.

He was completely blank.

The only other thing he noticed was that within him something felt… _missing_.

And that's what _frightened _him the most.

**Authors Note: **Oh my lord! That was hella fun to write! Go Molly! You tell him, girl! I hope I made up for my dreadfully bad chapter previous. I really hope this helped make the last one seem a little bit more in character. I keep forgetting to ask if everyone knows why my story is called what it is. Let me know because I think if you can work it out, it basically tells you where it's all going. ;) Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know your thoughts? I love hearing them. They inspire me so much.

Petal.


	14. More Than That

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **Thank-you for all your lovely reviews! I'm so glad you all love it. Please, have some faith in me. I really do know what I'm doing. The information I wrote is not wrong. It's Sherlock and Molly and it most definitely is romance. It is dramatic but at the time I wasn't sure if it would be more drama or more angst. I'll probably be changing that bit because it's obviously angst. But, in the next lot of chapters you are going to see I'm not wrong. So, don't lose faith!  
>Also, I thought I would inform you that my story is now going to finish on chapter eighteen. I've got some new ideas and I've just finished planning them out. So, I hope you all enjoy!<br>**Disclaimer: **I wished I owned because then Sherolly would already be happening!

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><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen: More Than That.<strong>

Sherlock was hiding.

Sherlock _never _hid.

It was _beneath _him to do such a thing.

But right now, he made the exception.

He simply couldn't face John, who was bustling about in the kitchen outside his bedroom.

That was where Sherlock inhabited of current.

He had been for the past week, since John and Molly had told him of their _engagement_.

He cursed the word.

He cursed them two.

It was absolutely _preposterous_.

But, they seemed hell bent on the choice.

Sherlock didn't know if he could accept it.

He wasn't quite sure why he didn't know.

He didn't usually care.

If two people wanted to make some mistake and not listen to his _advice, _then he'd let them.

He'd watch them crash.

He'd watch them burn.

And he'd _enjoy _it.

But this, this was _different_.

Perhaps it was because he _cared_ for these said two.

Or perhaps it was a different reason entirely.

A reason he was _frightened_ to deduce.

John had tried to come in to his room once this week.

He had claimed to be worried.

Sherlock had shooed him away and demanded privacy.

He had told John that Lestrade had given him an important case he just couldn't figure out.

He knew John didn't quite believe him.

Usually, he would have left the house by now.

He wouldn't have been curled up in his bed, looking like he hadn't changed his clothes since the announcement.

But John, he didn't push him.

He had nodded and left.

Every day since then, he had opened the door and placed on Sherlock's floor two slices of toast and a fresh glass of water.

Every day, the water was gone.

Every other day, the toast was gone.

John didn't mind.

Sherlock did it to keep his friend at peace.

He didn't want him to do something ridiculous like stage an _intervention_.

Sherlock's mind slipped away from what had been happening, since he had imprisoned himself to his bed, and back to the reason why he was even there in the first place.

He still hadn't managed to figure out whether or not Molly was still in love with him.

Her reaction had said one thing.

Her words had said another.

Her reaction to what he had said about John and her told him that she was very much still in love with him.

She didn't want to hear what he had to say.

Perhaps she was in denial?

Why would she be in denial?

She'd been in love with him for years.

Why did she want the sudden change now?

He thought back to her speech.

Her tone had been so strong.

Her face had spoken otherwise.

But her tone.

He couldn't get it from his head.

She had been _beautiful _even when she was saying words that brought out that blasted emotion in him.

Her words had _hurt_ him.

He wasn't sure why they had hurt him.

After all, he only cared for her; he didn't care about how she felt for him.

There was one thing that was really eating away at him from her speech.

How had she phrased it?

Something like: _logic isn't always the answer_.

He didn't understand that.

Of course logic was always the answer.

Everything people did could be based on a logical explanation.

_Except Molly's speech_.

He could see of no logical reason for it.

Her face had spoken one thing, her words another.

There was nothing logical about it.

He groaned in frustration.

He had tried so hard to keep his mind from going back to the same thought every day.

It confused him.

All he ever did was repeat himself.

He _hated _repeating himself.

It was the kind of thing that _normal _people did.

He was _above _being a normal person.

_Inferior _to it, in fact.

Yet here he lay, in his bed, doing what a normal person would do in this situation.

It _angered _him.

_Molly _angered him.

_John _angered him.

It was their entire fault!

If they hadn't decided to get engaged, then he wouldn't have gone off on one, and Molly wouldn't have even spoken her goddamn speech!

He sighed and, in a frustrated manner, ran his hands over his face.

He forced himself away from trying to figure out what that _stupid _phrase had meant and thought about something else.

Why did he even care so much?

It couldn't be because he cared about them.

It just _couldn't_ be.

He wouldn't be bedbound if it were.

He'd be out in the world doing everything he possibly could to stop it.

But yet, here he was.

Metaphorically, tied to his bed.

He felt as if he couldn't move.

He felt _weighted_ down.

That was ridiculous.

How could be weighted down?

For one, he hadn't eaten anything that could have kept him down.

Two, even if had it wouldn't have kept him down for the entire week.

So, why was he just lying in his bed?

What was causing him to be so immobile?

When had the weighted feeling first took place?

He thought back.

His eyes widened when he caught the information.

It was in the moment Molly had blurted out that she and John were engaged.

But, it hadn't made him immobile.

So, when did it?

He thought back further, trying to locate the one piece of information that could help him.

He sat up in his bed, frowning.

When Molly had left the flat that day, he had somewhat fell in to his chair.

It was _then_.

That was when it had all begun.

Why had it begun then?

What had been so important about that moment?

He closed his eyes.

He was trying to focus.

What had happened before he had fallen?

His eyebrows knotted ever so slightly.

They had said _goodbye_.

Something had been _different_.

What had been different?

…

The goodbye had almost sounded _final_.

Final?

Final what?

Molly's final goodbye to her love for him?

It couldn't be.

Was that what it had all meant?

His eyebrows knotted together, tighter; it was noticeable, and if John had walked in the room right then, he would have paused to watch his friend.

The look on Molly's face during her speech.

The ever present sheen of tears in her eyes.

_No_.

It _couldn't_ be.

It just couldn't be.

Why would she do that?

How had he not noticed it when she had spoken?

He felt so _normal _right now.

It was awful.

He didn't like feeling normal.

Why was she doing this?

Why did he even care that she was doing this?

How could she be marrying John when she was still in love with him?

She was still in love with him, he knew that now.

She was just trying to bury her feelings and move on.

She was being a _moron_.

You just _can't_ bury feelings.

…

He paused.

His entire body stilled.

You _can't _bury feelings?

His eyes slipped open, his mouth taking on the form of an 'o.'

_Oh dear_.

Wasn't that what he had been trying to do all this time?

He had admitted his feelings.

He was ignoring his feelings.

But was he?

Was this why he was bedridden?

He gulped.

It was.

Surely it wasn't because he merely _liked_ Molly?

He was no genius in this department but surely you didn't become bedridden for people you merely _liked_?

That meant it was… _more_.

He wasn't capable of love.

He knew that.

So what was this?

He didn't know.

He just knew that it was more than like.

He couldn't bury it no longer.

It was impossible.

He had to do something.

But what could he do?

They were hell bent on marriage.

John was his best friend.

He'd hurt him enough in the past year.

How could he make this right without causing damage?

He _couldn't_.

He frowned as that thought crossed his mind path.

He knew it was true but he didn't want to think of that right now.

He just had to do _something_.

He needed to form a plan.

It needed to be _subtle_.

He stepped in to the bathroom in his bedroom and turned on the shower head.

He'd be steering clear of his bed for the on coming days.

He had a lot of work to do.

He was determined to set everything right.

It was his fault they were in this mess.

If he hadn't have buried these pesky _things_.

If he had only let Molly know.

Then perhaps things would be different right now.

He _wouldn't_ be with Molly.

He didn't have time for that.

But maybe she wouldn't have resorted to marrying John to rid herself of her love for him.

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><p>Half an hour later, he crossed the threshold of the kitchen from his bedroom.<p>

He was freshly showered; smooth faced; adorned in a clean cut suit, and held a new perspective on what he was going to do to rectify his mistake.

John looked up from the paper he was reading in the living room.

A smile settling on his face.

"Your back."

Sherlock nodded.

"I have things I need to attend to, John."

John nodded his head.

"Before you run off to do whatever you must, can I ask you a question, Sherlock?"

Sherlock paused and turned to look at John.

He waited patiently as his flatmate put down his paper, and looked back to him.

"I know you haven't accepted mine and Molly's choice. But, I still want you there and I still want you as my best man. You're the only one I could ever think of asking and so Sherlock, please, would you be my best man at my wedding?"

Sherlock watched John carefully before replying with a well formed line.

"I've accepted it John. I would be _honoured _to be your best man."

Sherlock smiled.

John felt taken back but he smiled, too.

"Thank-you."

Sherlock nodded and returned to grabbing his coat and scarf before leaving the flat.

He may have _accepted _their decision but it didn't mean he _approved_ of it.

It also didn't mean he wasn't going to do everything he possibly could to _prevent _it.

**Authors Note: **How did you like chapter fourteen? Was Sherlock OK? I hope you think so. Can anyone guess what Sherlock's planning on doing? After writing this chapter, I feel as if I could add in an extra and give in you nineteen chapters! I just might yet. It'll let you see Sherlock in action with Molly a bit clearer. :)  
>I forgot to mention this at the beginning. I asked if anyone had understood the meaning of my title yet. You're all getting the idea but it's got a double meaning. It's also inspired by a song. If you check the song out, you'll also see that Molly's speech in the previous chapter was too. The song is 'Give Your Heart a Break' by Demi Lovato. I'm highly influenced by Demi – she's a huge inspiration to me.<br>Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and please review!

Petal.


	15. Perfect

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **So, I wasn't going to write again tonight as I've just woken from a nap and I couldn't be bothered. However, I decided that you readers/reviewers spoil me and so I shall spoil you right back with a new chapter. Usually when I write I listen to 'Give Your Heart a Break' on repeat but tonight I'm going to have my iTunes of shuffle. This chapter is spontaneous and not in my new plan (so it's going to be nineteen chapters long now) and I'm going to see how the music inspires me. I'll let you know. ;)  
>Here we go!<br>**Disclaimer: **I do not own. (Simplicity.)

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><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen: Perfect.<strong>

Once Sherlock left the flat, he hailed himself a cab to Molly's place.

As the driver drove him to her flat an anxious feeling settled in the pit of him stomach.

He hadn't been here since the day he returned to 221B.

For some reason, he was praying that nothing had changed there.

He wasn't quite sure why he had that feeling.

There was no word for it other than _random_.

The drive didn't take long, the roads of London quiet due to it being eleven in the evening on a Sunday.

He threw money at the cabbie, not caring for the change, and exited the car.

He stared up at Molly's flat building, the feeling in his stomach growing stronger.

He took in a breath of the ice-like air, it was definitely going to snow in the night, and then took the awfully long steps to the door.

He buzzed up to her flat, and waited.

A full minute later, Molly picked up on the intercom.

"Hello?"

"It's me."

"Sherlock? What are you doing here? It's late. I have work in the morning. Is it important?"

"I won't keep you long. Let me in."

"Ok," she sighed, uneasily, and buzzed him through.

He opened the door and took the stairs until he reached her on the third floor.

The door was already open.

He stepped inside, shut it, and went to the living room.

He didn't take his coat off as he sat down opposite her.

His eyes glued on to her.

"Can I get you a coffee?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"Quick stop."

She nodded her head and waited for him to continue.

"I came to tell you that I have accepted the engagement of John and yourself. I have agreed to be John's best man and I am here to tell you that, if there's anything you need at all, Molly, I'll help."

He put on a smile to which he was awarded with one back.

"That's wonderful news, Sherlock."

Molly stood up and came towards him.

He wasn't sure why.

She looked sleepy.

Before he knew it, the mousy hair coloured girl had her arms around him.

He slowly returned the embrace, taking in everything about how it felt.

She was _perfect _in his arms.

He wondered if this was how John felt.

He thought not, for some reason.

He doubted John saw her anywhere near being perfect when he held her.

She smelt like Molly.

It wasn't the perfumed Molly.

She smelt natural.

The smell he preferred.

All too soon, she pulled away from him and sat down next to him on the couch.

Her body facing him entirely.

"There is something I need help with, Sherlock. John's too busy to come with me. I need to take a look around a couple venues for the reception this week. Would you come with me? I'd prefer to not go alone." She murmured, almost shyly.

Sherlock turned his body to face hers.

He took her hands in his own and smiled at her.

He gave her hands a gentle squeeze.

"I said anything, Molly."

She grinned at him.

He was suddenly reminded of the time he'd seen her in her kitchen, just in her pyjamas, no makeup, and her hair a mess.

She was truly beautiful.

His stomach twisted in a way he thought wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"That's just perfect, Sherlock. Thank-you; I'll text you later this week with the dates and times."

Their hands were still connected.

They stared at one another for a few moments.

Sherlock's thumbs tracing patterns over the skin of her hands.

It was Molly who pulled back first.

She was blushing.

Sherlock smirked on the inside.

"Did you need anything else?" Her voice barely above a whisper.

"No."

"You should go then."

He nodded and stood.

"Text me." He smiled, before leaving the flat.

He had a feeling this plan would work perfectly.

He was going to make her realise.

He was going to be everything she possibly needed in the next few months.

His smirk slipped on to his lips as he opened the front door to her flat, and made his way back out before hailing a cab home.

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><p>True to his word, Sherlock met up with Molly on the first day she had texted him about venue-looking.<p>

They took a taxi to the place John and she had found online.

It was a horrible day.

Sherlock had been right.

It had snowed during Sunday night and now they were left with horrible ice patches, and the fine rain wasn't working fast enough to melt the said patches.

Sherlock paid the cabbie when they arrived.

The pair then got out of the taxi.

Molly's eyes widened as she took the place in.

It was… _interesting_.

She wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing right now.

The outside wasn't what she had seen in the pictures.

She began walking towards the building, Sherlock walking slowly behind her.

He was watching her reaction.

It was rather… _adorable_.

He'd never noticed her expression when she was unsure before.

Her eyebrows twitched and her lips formed in to a slight smile.

Molly hadn't been able to find her wellie boots this morning, and she'd been running late.

So, she'd slipped on the first boots she found and they weren't really made for this weather.

They had a small heel and sole with no grip.

She was so caught up in trying to make a decision on what she could see of the reception venue that she didn't take notice of what was in front of her with her next step.

She let out a shriek and braced herself for the impact.

But, it never came.

Instead, she felt arms wrapped around her waist and her body being held in a dipped position.

"You really need to rethink your choice in footwear, Molly."

His head was mere inches from her.

She gulped, staring in to eyes.

He stared back.

He slowly raised her in to a standing position, making sure she was off the ice.

"Thanks."

She quickly moved ahead, watching her every step this time.

Sherlock watched her from behind and smiled to himself.

* * *

><p>The next venue they visited that week was even worse than the first.<p>

The weather was dreadful.

It was pelting down, and every now and then there was a sprinkle of hailstones.

Molly and Sherlock had arrived at the place to find no one was there.

They were stood outside, trying to open the front entrance doors.

"Molly, I think we've discovered they are locked."

Molly turned to glare at him.

"They cannot be locked, Sherlock."

"They quite obviously can be, as they are."

Molly rolled her eyes and sunk to the floor.

Sherlock raised one of his eyebrows.

_Slightly dramatic_.

It made him grin to himself.

"This is ridiculous. We have an appointment with them!"

"Perhaps something happened."

"Or perhaps they are just arses."

Sherlock laughed.

Molly looked up at him in alarm.

"What?" He asked, confused.

"You laughed."

"I am capable of such things."

She tilted her head to the side, studying him in a way he couldn't decipher.

"You look funny, a bit like a drowned rat."

"Says the girl who is sitting on the floor in the rain."

She chuckled and looked away.

"Touché, Holmes."

* * *

><p>About two weeks after their disastrous first two attempts at picking a venue, Molly texted him once again.<p>

_John cancelled on me. He said he has to work; a doctors of sick. We have a cake tasting appointment today. Would you come with me, if you're not busy? –MH_

Sherlock read the text and was already putting on his coat.

_Where should I meet you? –SH_

Molly had texted him back instantly and he found himself in a taxi in less than five minutes.

When he arrived, Molly was outside the shop.

She wore a simple dress and pumps, her hair hung loosely, and her face bare of makeup.

She looked _stunning_.

John was certainly missing out, right now.

"Hello." He smiled, hands shoved in to his coat.

"Why are you wearing that? It's lovely out today."

"It's my coat, Molly."

"You don't need it, Sherlock."

He rolled his eyes and nodded his head to the building.

"Doors not locked, is it?"

She laughed and shook her head.

"And it's not raining either. I think it's safe to say, this might go well."

Sherlock grinned at her and waited for her to move to the door.

He followed her inside when she did.

There were two other couples in the shop, each tasting cake samples.

"Are you ready for this, Sherlock?"

"I hope you know, I don't like cake."

She turned to look at him, wide eyed.

"Well, I am going to enjoy this then."

She smirked at him and he mock gasped at her.

"That's a little bit cruel of you, Molly."

Molly stood staring at him.

"What?"

"Did you just mock gasp at me?"

He nodded his head.

"Please don't ever do that again. You look like an idiot."

She laughed then.

"Sherlock Holmes an idiot, who would have thought."

He mock gasped again which forced her to laugh even louder.

A lady with a tray came up – the first taster.

Sherlock took one of the samples and pushed it in to Molly's mouth.

Deliberately, making it hit her nose at the same time.

She swallowed the cake and gasped.

"You did that on purpose!" She exclaimed.

Once again, he mock gasped at her and added a wink.

"I've no idea what you are on about, Molly."

She narrowed her eyes on him, and picked up her own piece of cake.

"You better watch out, Holmes."

He took a step back from her, a smile lacing over his lip.

He was genuinely _enjoying_ himself.

* * *

><p>The next time Molly got in touch with Sherlock was about a week and a half later.<p>

He'd picked up his phone with a casual "Molly."

"Are you busy?"

"Where should I meet you?"

She gave him the name of the shop and he once again found himself in a taxi.

When he arrived, he saw Molly already inside the shop.

He pushed his way in and smiled at her.

"Hello."

"Hi, Sherlock. I think you better strip."

He raised an eyebrow.

"For you?"

"What?"

She turned to look at him.

"Oh. Oh no!" She gasped as she realised what she had said.

"I meant in the changing rooms. I need you to try this on."

He looked towards the outfit she held in her hands.

There was a black blazer and trousers with a deep purple shirt hanging inside the jacket.

"It's only to give me an idea of what I want. If I like it, you'll be getting it tailored." She smiled and handed the items to him.

"Changing rooms that way." She nodded her head in the direction.

She walked with him to it and then sat down on the seat outside.

He went in to the room and began to shred himself of his own clothes, and change in to the ones Molly requested.

Outside, Molly had picked up one of the magazines sitting on a little table beside the seat, and was absently flicking through it.

"John tells me you've been saying no to cases; interesting cases. Why is that, Sherlock?"

Sherlock stopped for a few moments before continuing on with dressing himself.

"They haven't been interesting enough." He stated.

"Really? John said Lestrade has been begging you because they are so in depth and twisted. Nothing makes sense."

"Nothing ever makes sense to the police. They are imbeciles."

He stepped out from the changing room, readjusting his blazer as he came to stand in front of Molly.

She looked up from the magazine.

Sherlock heard her breath hitch.

He restrained himself from smirking at her reaction.

Molly stood up.

"I don't think we have to look at any of the other options." She murmured.

He stared down at her.

He wanted to make her _squirm_.

She needed to start questioning herself.

"Why's that, Molly?"

"You look perfect."

"Perfect how?"

"Handsome, Sherlock; that's how perfect you look."

"Will John look as _perfect _in the same suit?"

"Hm?" Molly whispered, her eyes flowing up and down his body.

"John." He stepped closer to her.

Her gaze snapped up to his; her tongue darting across her drying lips.

"What about him?"

"Will he look as perfect in this outfit as myself?"

"He'll have to." She whispered.

Sherlock didn't move back.

Molly didn't move back.

They stayed staring at one another.

It felt like forever but in reality could have been no longer than a minute.

They were pulled apart by a sales assistant who wanted to know if everything was OK.

Molly proclaimed it to be, and that she wanted to have two of these suits tailored.

She went off with the assistant to arrange everything while Sherlock went back in to the changing room.

Everything was going according to plan.

_Perfectly _according to plan.

He'd pull this off.

He'd _stop_ this shame.

He'd have Molly second guessing herself in no matter of time.

He could _feel _it.

He _knew _it.

**Authors Note: **That was so sweet to write! So many Sherolly moments happened here. I hope you don't think Sherlock was out of character during those moments. Please remember, it is all a part of his plan. The random shuffle didn't really do anything, it just entertained me. However, Daniel Powter's 'Bad Day' did inspire me to write the scene in the rain. I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are highly appreciated, as you all know!

Petal.


	16. Realising Is Never Easy

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note:** OK! Second attempt at writing this chapter; I'm still tired but I've eaten and I've got coke in my system. So, hopefully, this means I'll be alive! ;D Anyways, thank-you for all your lovely reviews; they give me such energy to write. They _make _me want to write. So, thank-you. Over the 150 line, it's just amazing. Enough rambling from me, on with the writing!  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Not mine, obviously. ;)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen: Realising Is Never Easy.<strong>

One month and two weeks had passed since the incident at the tailors.

Molly and Sherlock had both feigned ignorance on the subject.

However, in Molly's thoughts the demon often crept up on her, its head peeking out.

She did her best to ignore it.

She didn't speak to a soul about what had happened and her feelings on it.

Since that day, Sherlock had kept to his word and often came with her on trips for everything and anything to do with the wedding.

Not today though.

She refused it.

He _couldn't _be here today.

He didn't understand why.

She thought he had seemed rather annoyed when she had refused him.

As of current, she was standing in a small bridal shop.

Dress after dress decorating the small boutique.

She never thought she would be a girl affected by the sight of wedding dresses.

But as she stood in the midst of the modest shop, she found herself squealing inside of her head.

_Heaven._

She was in heaven.

She snapped her attention to her mother and sister, they were going crazy as they searched the rails, taking in every dress they saw and liked; they seemed to have forgotten they were looking for Molly and not themselves.

Molly laughed and began to search through her own row of dresses.

They were all beautiful in their own way, but nothing stood out.

Nothing was _her_.

She sighed.

This was what it was going to be like.

She'd never find that spot on, _perfect_ one.

"Molly!" Her sister squealed.

Molly looked towards her and visibly winced at what she saw the younger girl holding.

The dress was, in simple terms, a princess style.

Molly studied it in her sister's arms.

It was a brilliant white that hurt her eyes, with a corset style bodice; it shimmered under the lights in the shop as it was littered with diamonds and pearl coloured beads. It flared out from the hips and fell right down to the ground in the greatest puff Molly had ever seen.

"Oh please try it on, Mols!"

Molly looked to her pleading sister and bit her lip.

That was what she had come here for, to try on dresses.

She sighed and nodded her head.

She extended her arms out to take the dress from her.

Molly's sister clapped her hands in excitement.

Molly, awkwardly, trudged her way to the changing rooms and heaved the dress inside one of them.

She stripped herself off her clothes and shimmed herself in to the dress.

"I need help!" She called through the door, before opening it.

Her sister came to her side and in an instant was tying the corset back up.

Molly stared at herself in the mirror in surprise.

The dress really wasn't her.

But, she looked _amazing _in it.

She felt like a princess.

Wasn't that how you were supposed to feel on your wedding day?

She bit her lip as she held herself in and let her sister pull tight at the strings.

Her mother came round the corner with another dress in her hands.

"Oh Molly, darling!" She exclaimed, coming to stand beside her.

"You look gorgeous!"

Molly smiled.

It may not have been her but she felt wonderful in it.

"Thank-you."

She gnawed at her lip.

She was trying to imagine her day.

She couldn't quite see herself walking down the aisle to Sh—John in this dress.

She frowned at the thought she'd nearly had.

Why had she nearly had that thought?

It had been so long since the last one.

She was marrying John, not _him_.

She wanted to marry John.

She loved John.

They were going to be together.

They were going to have a _family_ together.

They were going to have a _life_ together.

He was going to be nothing but a faint memory.

Well, that wasn't exactly true.

He was John's best friend; he would always be there.

But, her crush on him would just be a faint memory.

They was the plan.

The plan _couldn't_ fail.

It had been going great until that damn day at the tailors.

He'd looked _so_ good.

He'd looked better than he usually did.

And Sherlock Holmes always looked gorgeous.

He just kept popping up in her thoughts at the worst possible time after that day.

She couldn't even control them.

John and she had been kissing the other day and all she could think of was what it would be like to kiss Sherlock while he was in his goddamned groomsman suit.

It was _wrong_.

She just didn't know _how_ to stop it.

She sighed and looked down.

Her mother looked towards her.

"What's wrong, dear?"

Molly shrugged her shoulders.

She didn't want to talk about it.

"It's not the right dress, Mum."

Molly's mother smiled at her, as if she understood perfectly well what was going on.

"You'll find one soon, my darling. It just takes time."

Molly nodded and looked up.

A forced smile on her lips.

Her mother didn't notice.

"Look what I found. How about I untie this one and you go and try this on."

Molly's eyes slipped to the dress in her mother's hand and she frowned.

It was awful.

It wasn't even pretty.

It was an A-line, champagne coloured dress.

Like the one previous, the bodice was decorated in embellishments of all sorts and the lower half of the dress was scrunched up in a style that gave it the look of being ruffle covered.

She wanted to be sick.

She said nothing and let her mother do as she pleased.

Once the dress was undone in the back, she slipped it off and padded her way back to the changing room, the new dress in hand.

She climbed in to the dress and pulled it up, doing up the zip at the side.

She frowned.

At least she had felt like royalty in the previous one.

Now she felt out of place.

She bent down to her bag and pulled out her phone.

_I need you. –MH_

He took seconds to reply.

_I told you they'd be fools. –SH_

She rolled her eyes at the message before texting back.

_Come, please? –MH_

She looked in to the changing rooms mirror while waiting for a reply.

Her mother had disturbingly disgusting taste.

_Already in the cab. –SH_

She smiled and moved out of the changing room.

She came to stand by the three floor length mirrors by the changing area, glaring at her reflection.

"Really, mum? Really?"

Her mother's eyes widened as she took in the sight of her daughter.

"Molly! You look stunning! I say, this is the _one_!"

Before Molly could reply, her sister came bustling around the corner; in her arms there was another princess style dress.

"Mol-" Molly cut her off and held up her hand to them.

"That's it!" She cried out, turning to face them.

"Leave! Both of you leave! You're not looking for me. You're looking for yourselves! I want to look alone!"

They frowned at her and tried to say something but she got there before them.

"Leave, I said!"

Without another word, they both left.

Molly turned back to look at her reflection.

What on earth was she going to do?

Everything was a mess.

She couldn't find the right dress.

She wasn't even sure if she was doing the right thing anymore.

John was an amazing man.

She wanted to move on.

She knew she loved him.

Perhaps not as much as his best friend.

But, she loved him.

She could move on with him.

She could be happy with him.

Or so she had thought.

But now all _he _ever did was prod at her mind.

She couldn't get through a day without a thought of him.

Todays had been the worst.

She'd gone a whole month without thinking it was him she was marrying.

That had just come crashing down.

It just had to come crashing down while she was searching for the dress she'd be wearing as she walked on to her future with John.

She sighed and shook her head.

She had to stop concentrating on this.

She was here to find herself a dress.

That was what was important today.

"Exactly as I predicted; you look terrible."

Molly's eyes glanced up in to the mirror and she gave him a soft, sad smile.

"It's disgusting, really." She murmured.

Her eyes fell to the fabric in his hand.

Unlike the two her sister had thrown at her, it wasn't in the style of a princess dress. It, thankfully, wasn't that awful champagne colour nor did it have a style that reminded her off an awful eighties wedding gown.

This one was white, like her sister's choices, but it didn't hurt her eyes with the glare of the colour; it was a soft white. It fell straight and she assumed it would reach calve length. The sleeves were solely made of lace while the body of the dress was made of a heavy, white fabric; Molly couldn't name, and covered in the same lace that decorated the arms. Before it reached calve length, it was trimmed with lace, the heavy material missing.

"What's that?" She nodded to the dress in the mirror.

"It's a wedding gown, Molly." Sherlock stated, trying his best not to roll his eyes at her oblivious behaviour.

"I know that. Why do you have it?"

"Molly, why would I be holding a wedding gown?"

"For me?"

"Isn't that why you demanded my presence here."

She turned to face him, lifting the dress she was wearing up from the floor.

She walked towards him, staring at the dress in his hands.

"It's beautiful, Sherlock."

She reached a hand out to finger the material.

She was in _awe_.

"Why don't you try it on, Molly?"

Her mouth went dry.

How had he known this was her?

Her own mother and sister hadn't even known.

She looked up at him; her eyes were filled with tears.

His eyebrows knotted together in confusion.

Was she about to cry?

Why was she about to cry?

This was ridiculous!

It was only a dress.

"Oh Sherlock!" She threw herself in to his arms.

He caught her and he embraced her, instantly.

He no longer held back.

He cared about her.

She _knew_ that.

Why hide it from her?

He said nothing as he held her.

"The dress… it's just… it's everything I'm looking for."

He pulled back to look at her.

"You haven't even tried it on yet."

She looked up at him, a serious look in her eyes.

He didn't quite understand the solid look there.

Once again, he thought, it was _only _a dress!

"I know it's perfect, Sherlock."

He held it out to her.

"Try it on."

She nodded and took it from his hands.

"Do you need help getting out of this one?"

Her cheeks reddened as she looked at him.

She suddenly felt shy in his presence.

"It's only a zip. I can handle it." She murmured.

She then stepped back in to the changing room, shredding the awful dress from her body.

She slipped on the one Sherlock had picked for her.

The zip was at the back.

_Oh, Oh._

She gnawed hard on her lip.

She had to make a decision.

She could either struggled in trying to do the zip herself, or call Sherlock in to do it for her.

She chose the latter.

"Sherlock," she called.

Sherlock came to her, opening her door slightly.

"Can you do me?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"Do me up!" She blushed fiercer than she already was, nodding her head to her zip.

"Oh! Of course."

He stepped in to the little room and let his eyes fall to Molly's bare back.

His fingers grazed the skin at the small of her back as he slowly dragged the zip up.

His fingers leaving a tingling sensation as they trailed up her back.

Molly's breathing deepened; Sherlock's grew shallow.

His eyes snapped to hers in the mirror as the zip reached the end of its path.

They ran the full length of her body.

He had made a rather good choice.

It was _perfectly_ her.

Molly couldn't agree more.

The dress felt right.

The dress felt _exactly_ right.

The dress felt as if it _belonged_ to her.

The dress made her feel like she had always imagined she would on her wedding day.

Her eyes connected with Sherlock's in the mirror.

He was staring at her with a look she couldn't decipher.

It almost seemed as if he were… _admiring _her.

She bit her lip.

The blush on her cheeks, previously, was rising once more.

"Molly… you look…" He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

"Molly you look beautiful. You simply look beautiful."

Molly looked down, embarrassed by the compliment.

"Thank-you, Sherlock."

She stared at her feet for a few moments before letting her gaze slip back up to Sherlock's in the mirror.

He was still staring at her.

His expression was never changing.

Her chest tightened as it dawned on her.

She _wasn't_ marrying Sherlock.

He was here in her dressing room, helping her pick out her wedding gown.

Sherlock and herself were _never_ going to happen.

Inside of her, her gut twisted.

Some part of her had still been holding on to the hope of it.

But, it was never going to happen.

She was marrying _John_.

She'd be _happy_ with John.

She _knew_ that.

She'd probably be happier with John than she could ever be with Sherlock.

Not that he wanted her that way.

She let out a sigh.

The sigh felt like she had just _let go_ of a dream she never knew she even had.

She gave him a sad smile in the mirror.

He didn't understand why she was sad.

"What's wrong?"

"I just realised something."

It suddenly all became clear to him.

He _knew_ what she was realising.

As he stared at her in the mirror, he was _realising_ it, too.

She was marrying John.

She was marrying him whether he liked it or not.

She would _never_ be with him.

Not that he wanted her that way.

He gave her a sad smile back.

He _didn't_ let out a sigh.

He still felt like he was _letting go_ of a dream he didn't even know he had.

"Sherlock, can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"As you know, my dad… he died. I have no one to walk me down the aisle…" She trailed off in a whisper.

He knew where she was going with this.

He already knew the answer he'd give.

"So… I was just wondering… if perhaps, if you don't mind… you already have your role in the wedding as best man… but… I was wondering if you'd give me away to John?" She bit her lip and looked down.

He watched her as she did.

He stayed watching her for a few moments before replying.

"I'd be honoured to give you away, Molly Hooper."

Her eyes shot up to his; the sad smile still in place on both of their lips.

If she couldn't walk to him at least she could walk beside him.

**Authors Note: **Damn. This is eleven and a bit pages. I did not expect that to happen when I began writing tonight. I basically put the next chapter in to this one as well. I do have an idea for the next two chapters and so it should still end up being nineteen chapters long. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. I didn't plan the ending to this… not exactly anyways… but it just felt right. So angsty, I know! I did say every chapter would be emotional from now on. I think they are romantic though, in a sad way. Let me know your thoughts? :)

Petal.


	17. Acceptance of the Basic

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note:** All the responses I'm getting, they are just wonderful. I love reading how everyone feels about what I'm doing. It's just amazing. I am so glad to hear that you all like it even if you're getting frustrated with how it is right now. It's all up and down, isn't it? Well, it's pretty much going to flow now. The next two chapters are going to be emotional ones. We're going to see Sherlock and Molly going over their thoughts on their situation. Then it's the finale; so, only three more chapters left for you! This one is going to be Sherlock's chapter. We're just going to see his thoughts and we're going to see some development in his character. I'm hoping to be proud of the person Sherlock grows in to throughout this chapter. I hope you feel the same. :) Enough of my rambling and on with the story!  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I still do not own. Must I keepstating this? ;D

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen: Acceptance of the Basic.<strong>

Sherlock had abandoned his plan after the day in the bridal shop.

The realisation had been one that had shocked him.

He'd accepted it pretty swiftly though.

He knew what he had to do.

He had to distance himself from Molly.

He was making it worse, for the both of them.

He'd thrown himself in to the cases he had been neglecting.

It had been three months since that day.

He'd only caught glimpses of Molly since.

Three times when he had needed to see a certain body in the morgue, and twice at 221B.

Molly didn't come to the flat often.

Sherlock had once asked John why.

He had a feeling he knew why though.

He hadn't been wrong.

John said that Molly preferred them being at her place; she didn't have a roommate.

More like she didn't have to see _him _if they were at hers.

He wasn't complaining.

The five times he had seen her, he'd felt distracted.

He could feel her _presence_ around him.

It _bothered_ him.

He couldn't think clearly and hadn't got any further in the case he was on while she was still around.

But now, the cases were finished and Scotland Yard didn't need him.

He was left to amuse himself in the comfort of 221B.

He was failing miserably.

He couldn't even pick up his gun and shoot the wall.

His mind wouldn't leave the Molly situation alone.

He sighed.

It was about time he analysed exactly what had happened that day.

He would have to face her soon – the wedding was only a month away.

He needed to be able to concentrate that day.

So, he made himself comfortable in his chair.

His knees were pressed to his chin and his palms flat against one another, fingers drumming a rhythm together.

What had happened?

His mind zipped back to being in Molly's changing room.

That was when it had started.

She was gorgeous.

He couldn't even tell her how beautiful she looked without stumbling over his words.

Sherlock _never _stumbled.

He hadn't been able to think.

His mind raced back to the moments before that.

He sucked in a breath as the memory of her skin against his fingers came to mind.

He could practically _feel _her on the tips now.

He didn't know what it was about that moment.

There was just something.

It was as if he'd realised he could happily stand with his fingers tracing her back forever.

He'd just known he could be beside her forever.

As he'd been staring at her reflection in the mirror, it had all come to him at once.

He was ruining everything she was trying to do.

She wanted to forget her feelings for him.

He understood that.

He even agreed with her doing that.

They would never be together.

He _didn't _want to be with her.

But he was trying to ruin it all because he knew her and John would never work out.

He still knew they wouldn't work out.

But perhaps, if she did marry John and later on they separated… maybe she wouldn't have feelings for him anymore.

Wasn't that why she was doing this?

He was sure of it.

Inside his gut twisted.

Why did it do that?

There was a niggling thought at the corner of his mind.

It had been there the entire time.

He had tried to push it away.

But now, he let it slip slowly across his mind path.

Was there a bigger reason as to why he was doing this?

Was that why his gut had just hurt at the thought of Molly moving on?

What was the bigger reason?

He'd already discovered that he cared for her.

He'd then realised that he didn't just care for her, that he felt something more for her.

But what was that something more?

He proclaimed it not to be love.

What if it had been?

He stiffened.

That wasn't possible.

He _couldn't_ love!

He _knew_ that.

He'd _always_ known that.

But it was all right there.

It was the _logical_ reason as to why his gut had twisted.

It was the more logical reason as to why he had done everything he could to try and separate John and Molly.

He scoffed at himself.

Since when did _feelings _become _logical_?

He sighed and ran his hands over his face.

His mind had made them logical.

He hadn't even had to truly think for those thoughts to slip in to his vision.

Wasn't that what logic was?

The things that were the most simple.

The things that came to you without effort.

_Love _wasn't logical.

It wasn't something you could explain.

It wasn't something he believed existed.

So why had the thoughts of love come to him so quickly?

Was it because of the situation?

Molly and John claiming to be in love?

The wedding?

He sighed.

When he thought of those now, the only thought that came in to his head was the word: '_sham_.'

Obviously not that.

A thought flashed past his vision.

What was that?

He frowned.

Could it have possibly come to mind because of his subconscious?

Without realising it, had he _begun_ to love?

…

Was this what love felt like?

It was nothing special.

It was quite _irritating_ really.

Chest tightening, jealousy, erratic heartbeat, shallow breathing, losing all track of thought, stumbling through sentences…

There were so many other things he could think of but he just couldn't believe it.

Perhaps this was what normal people called love?

This was why they did crazy things.

It was… _pathetic_.

Was he really in love with Molly Hooper?

His chest tightened at the thought and he swore he could feel his heart getting ready to rip free of his chest.

Inside his head was the whisper of the word '.

Was he really in love with Molly Hooper?

His chest tightened at the thought and he swore he could feel his heart getting ready to rip free of his chest.

Inside his head was the whisper of the word '_yes_.'

He couldn't quite believe it.

He had done all this because he had fallen for Molly?

How on earth had he even fallen for Molly?

He thought about it.

He'd spent so long with her in her flat after his 'death.'

He'd grown accustomed to her.

He'd never admit it to her, but he'd enjoyed spending time with her.

He'd missed John but he was quite content living with Molly.

That was until she had announced her date with John.

Everything changed for him then.

Why?

He'd been afraid of losing her.

His mind nudged the thought to him.

Could it be true?

It seemed true.

He let his knees drop to the floor and he sat up straight.

He was losing her.

He _had _lost her.

Strangely, he was OK with losing her.

Why was he OK with losing her?

That wasn't the way people described losing someone you loved.

They did everything they could to get them back.

But then again, he had done that, hadn't he?

Was he giving up?

He didn't think so.

He hadn't even realised he'd been fighting.

He pursed his lips as he fell deeper in to the depths of his mind palace.

He was _accepting_ it.

He was accepting the fact Molly was going to marry John.

Why was he accepting it?

…

He wanted her to be _happy_.

She would never be happy as long as she had feelings for him.

They could never be together.

He felt like he _wanted_ to be with her.

He frowned.

How could he want to be in a relationship?

He felt disgusted at the thought.

Somehow though, he did.

But it was dangerous.

He'd never put her through that.

John was her way out.

He wanted to _help _her get out.

That was why he had agreed to walk her down the aisle.

He was helping her take that step.

He was letting her go.

He'd been holding on to her.

He hadn't even noticed that.

He sighed once more and stood up.

He took cautious steps towards the window of 221B and looked down on the people walking the street.

He wasn't much different from them.

He could _feel_.

He could be just as _petty_.

He got _hungry_.

He needed to _sleep_.

He _liked_ things.

He _hated_ things.

He was _exactly_ like them; he just had a smarter way of looking at the world.

His eyebrows knotted together.

It was _strange_ really.

This wasn't anything special.

But this was love.

This was what kept so many people going.

This was what kept _Molly_ going.

This was why some people did ridiculous things.

And now, he felt it.

He turned from the window and leant against it.

The day of the wedding, he knew exactly what he would do.

He'd be the perfect best man.

He'd walk Molly down the aisle and have a smile on his face the entire time he did.

He wouldn't be one of those people who did stupid things.

But, he wouldn't forget what he had learnt today, he'd simply ignore it.

Why?

Because he knew she was more important than this.

He may be in love with her and perhaps, she was even in love with him.

But, what was the point in loving if the one you loved were dead?

He was certain that was what this would come to if he turned _stupid_.

**Authors Note: **Hm, I'm not quite sure if I like how this turned out. Sherlock's changing now. He's realised that he isn't some tin man and that he is in fact quite like everyone else in the world. He still has all the basic things people have; he was just blessed with seeing things in a different light. Anyways, I hope I haven't disappointed anyone with this chapter. It was very tricky to write. Trying to write Sherlock realising he can love while trying to keep him in character is very difficult. But, that's the type of character I want him to be. He still doesn't like love though. As I said, he feels disgusted at the thought of everything. So, please, let me know your thoughts on it. I hope I haven't ruined this story for you lovely readers.

Petal.


	18. When A Kiss Feels Like This

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **I'm starting to write this and I've only just posted chapter seventeen. I just can't help it, I've just had so many ideas pop in to my head for this chapter. So, I've added them in and I'm so excited to write it. There are three songs that have inspired me to write what I am about to. One is _'Tattoo' _by Jordin Sparks; _'Words I Couldn't Say' _the Leighton Meester version; and finally_ 'Don't You Wanna Stay' _by Kelly Clarkson and Jason Aldean. The last song was the last chapter's inspiration. However, I want to put the beginning of the last chapter at the end of this one now and so, seen as the song basically inspired the beginning of that chapter… it's for this one now. Although it does inspire the last part too; so anyways, without further ado I give you chapter eighteen.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> It's still not mine.

**Chapter Eighteen: When A Kiss Feels Like This.**

Molly Hooper couldn't believe it.

She couldn't believe it _at all_.

The day she had once believed would never come… was here.

She was sat in front of a dressing table in the modest church John and she had picked.

Everything had fallen in to place.

There wasn't a single thing left for her to do, other than get ready and show up.

She was currently staring at her reflection in the mirror.

A thin layer of makeup was covering her face: her eyes were coated in a light cream shadow and on the outer corners there was a light purple colour that gave her eyes a smoke-like look. Her cheeks held a light dusting of pale pink, and her lips a sweet, deep pink, making them stand out but not in an overdone way like when she wore red.

Behind her, her cousin, the hairdresser was curling her hair so she could clip some back from her face, while leaving the rest hanging down Molly's back.

It was a simple style.

It was _Molly's_ style.

As Molly stared at her reflection in the mirror, her mind slipped away to the man who was on the other side of the church in his own provided room.

_He_ was with her soon-to-be-_husband_.

She had barely seen him since the day he had picked out her bridal gown, which hung in one of the rooms corners.

She had tried to not think about him since that day.

There wasn't really much she could think about.

She had let him go that day.

She had let her _dream _go that day.

She had realised her reality and saw no point in holding on any longer.

Her reality wasn't a terrible one.

John was wonderful.

He'd be a terrific husband.

He'd be an amazing father.

He was everything she could possibly hope for.

But still, he was there in the corner of her mind.

She supposed he always would be, wouldn't he?

He may not have loved her.

He may never have been with her.

But she had loved him.

She had loved him deeper than she knew possible.

He was still imbedded in her heart.

He always would be.

She knew that.

But, it was time to move on.

She needed to live her life.

She couldn't wait around for him another second longer.

He was never going to love her.

And even if he could, it was just too late.

She saw that now.

That's why she had let go.

He'd played too many games with her.

She didn't have time for games anymore.

She was _sick_ of them.

If she didn't marry John, they'd go right back to them.

He'd use her in the cruellest ways to get whatever he wanted.

She just couldn't live that way again.

It hurt too much.

She was getting too old to have a guard up all the time.

She shouldn't have had to protect herself from him.

But she had.

Molly blinked once and watched her cousins hands toy with her hair; her mind slowly began to drift back off in to her thoughts.

She slipped back in to the one of their last, true day together.

Her breath hitched, softly.

She could still feel his fingertips brushing at her back as he zipped up the dress.

It had felt so right.

She had forgotten everything.

She had forgotten she was engaged to another man; a man who just happened to be his friend.

She had been so ready to get lost in him.

But as she had gazed in to his eyes in the mirror, she had just seen it.

He _wasn't_ her future.

He'd _never_ be her future.

He was just a dream.

That was all he ever would be.

They weren't made for one another.

She wasn't going to be the infamous woman who broke Sherlock Holmes' beliefs.

Forever, she would be nothing but _his pathologist_.

She accepted that.

She didn't like it.

But she accepted the fate she was destined for.

It was her path to walk and she'd walk it without looking back.

Her eyes took in her reflection once more.

Her cousin had now pinned back her hair and was placing a small flower, that matched her lips, in to the left side of Molly's hair.

Molly smiled at her reflection.

She looked good.

Her cousin grinned at her.

"What do you think, Mols?"

Molly looked to her cousin in the mirror and grinned back.

"I love it! Thank-you!"

Her cousin smiled and nodded her head to the door.

"I'll be back shortly. Get your dress on and I'll zip it up in a second."

Molly nodded and moved to grab her dress as her cousin left the room.

* * *

><p>She stepped in to the material and slowly slid it up her body, in went her arms; the dress now hung loose on her body as she needed for it to be zipped.<p>

While she waited for her cousin to come back, she went over to slip in to her shoes.

They weren't anything special.

They were just _Molly_.

They matched her dress in colour; the sole was a platform with a thick high heel.

Molly had her back to the door when it opened again.

She didn't turn around.

She knew it would be her cousin.

"Do me." She murmured to her as she looked down at her dress and began smoothing it down.

Her cousin said nothing as she moved towards her.

…

Molly's eyes widened as she then felt _his _hand on the small of her back.

Her head shot up and a small squeak of embarrassment passed her lips.

They may have been in this position once before.

This time it was _different_.

This time she had no bra on.

The dress already had support inside.

Her back was completely bare to him.

Like he had before, his hands teasingly trailed up the skin on her back as he tugged the zip up.

Time seemed to freeze.

It was as if they were the only two in the world right now.

For Molly, it was _agony_.

She had accepted her future, yes.

But she still was attracted to him.

She couldn't control the affect he had on her.

She gulped and after what felt like a lifetime, the zip was in place.

His hands slowly dragged down her back and then dropped to his sides.

She turned around to face him.

She was trying to keep her face neutral.

She knew it was no used.

He was Sherlock Holmes after all.

But she still tried.

He said nothing of it.

His eyes rolled over her body as he took in the sight of the woman who wasn't going to be walking towards him.

"If it's possible, Molly, I think you look more beautiful than the day you tried this dress on."

Her lips went dry.

Her throat felt scratchy.

She wasn't quite sure she could speak.

But she had to.

He was waiting for her to.

She dropped her eyes to the floor, thankful for the blusher on her cheeks which was consuming the real blush rising to her face.

"Thank-you, Sherlock."

He nodded and moved towards the door.

He _locked_ it.

He didn't want her cousin or mother or sister to interrupt the moment he was about to have with her.

The thought had slipped in to his mind the moment he laid eyes on her.

She had to _know_.

He couldn't let her make a choice when she didn't know all the facts.

He turned back towards her.

She hadn't moved.

He began to step towards her again.

Her eyes locked on to his.

Once he was in front of her, he made sure they kept their eyes on one another.

"Molly, I want to tell you something." He whispered.

Her eyes widened a fraction; he took a hold of her hands in his own.

His thumbs began to caress her skin.

"I wasn't going to do this, Molly. But seeing you standing her right now… I have to. I just know I have to."

Molly let her tongue slip out to lick her lips; her heart was beginning to pick up pace.

"I'm just going to tell you the whole damn truth. When you came home that day and told me about your date with John, something inside me changed. I didn't realise it until about a month ago exactly what. After that day, I tried everything I could to ruin what you and John were building. I didn't agree with the two of you being together and I still don't. But I know it's right."

He closed his eyes for a few moments and took in a breath.

They re-opened and captured Molly's gaze.

"I'm sure you noticed that after the day at the bridal boutique, I suddenly wasn't there anymore. That's because I understood that what I was doing was wrong and I had to stop it. I finally understood why you are doing what you are doing. I accepted it. About a month ago though, I revisited everything and I figured out something you need to know. I wasn't going to tell you but the decision you are about to make is one of importance to _you _and I believe you should know all the facts. It's the only way to make a logical choice after all."

Subconsciously, he drew her nearer to him.

Molly didn't dare breathe as she listened to his every word.

Her heart was hammering now.

He could feel her heart hammering through the pulse he was now feeling on her wrist.

"A month ago Molly, I discovered that I… I…"

There was no easy way to say this.

There was no easy way at all.

He closed his eyes.

He didn't know whether he should tell her or not.

He opened them again and he studied her for a few moments – they went unnoticed by her.

She was on the edge now.

She was _dying _to know.

"I discovered that I've changed. Everything's changed. My feelings towards you have changed. That was why I did everything I could to break John and yourself up. I guess the term for what I was feeling then was… _jealousy_." He spat the word out.

* * *

><p>He couldn't say it.<p>

He couldn't bring himself to destroy her.

He already knew the choice she would have made if he had told her.

That was why he wanted to do it.

He didn't want John to have the pleasure of her walking towards him looking like she did.

Molly stared up at him in shock.

_Jealousy? _

Sherlock was jealous.

Sherlock was jealous of John and herself.

Sherlock was jealous of John and herself because he had feelings for her.

She certainly hadn't seen that one coming.

She had no words for him.

He dropped her hands and moved around her.

When he was back in her line of vision she discovered he held her veil.

She looked up at him with confused eyes.

"Better get this on. The wedding is starting shortly."

She couldn't speak.

She simply nodded and allowed him to place the thin material on her head.

He didn't pull the veil down over her face.

He looked at her.

He _truly _looked at her.

He took in everything about the woman who had trampled all over him without even knowing it.

The woman who had changed him.

He slowly bent down and pressed his lips to hers.

It wasn't a passionate kiss.

It was soft and bittersweet.

He pulled her closer to him; her body now flush against his own.

He was careful as he held the back of her head in his hands – he didn't want to ruin the hairstyle her cousin had produced.

Molly's own hands were resting on his hips and she gently pushed her tongue in to the depths of his mouth.

She explored every possible place she could reach and before they pulled away from one another she soothingly ran her tongue over the length of his.

They were now staring at one another.

Their breathing was slightly deeper but the only real sign that the kiss had taken place was the smeared lipstick on both of their faces.

"Goodbye, Molly Hooper."

…

"Goodbye..."

It had been the _final_ goodbye between them.

This part of their life was over now.

They had put it to rest; they were letting it lay dormant.

Molly moved over to the mirror to fix her makeup; Sherlock wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

Once all evidence of the kiss was removed, she picked up her bouquet.

He came towards her and pulled the short veil down over her face.

They stared at one another for a moment until they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"It's time, Molly."

She looked up at Sherlock who was smiling at her sadly.

"Let's go, soon-to-be Mrs _Watson_."

She smiled back at him in the same manner.

She gripped on to his extended arm and he led her to the door.

Unlocking it, they stepped outside and waited for Molly's sister, her one and only bridesmaid, to walk down the aisle.

They were waiting quietly behind the closed doors.

Molly's breathing picked up as she heard her song begin to play.

She looked up at Sherlock before back to the door.

She took in a shaky breath and closed her eyes.

**Authors Note: **There it is! The second from the last chapter. How do you all feel right now? I'm pretty excited. I really enjoyed writing this. It's so sad! But damn! I think this is my favourite chapter! Sherlock didn't even let her have a choice! Bitch! I hope you liked it. I really want to get the final chapter up tonight but if I don't expect it tomorrow! Let me know how you are all feeling and perhaps, what you all believe is going to happen!

Petal.


	19. The Damsel and The Prince

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **Oh dear, I was so worried I wouldn't be able to write this tonight. I had a tonne of work to do but I wasn't feeling too splendid and so I took the day off and got the work done. I'd still be doing it right now otherwise and I wouldn't have written anything tonight! Boo! But never fear, here is the _final _chapter! You guys have been splendid and oh my god, the last chapter! Eighteen reviews on it! I like it seen as it was the eighteenth chapter. ;) Without any more of my rambling, here is the chapter you have all been waiting for!  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>In another life I would be Benedict's girl, he'd keep all his promise; he'd give me Sherlock and a whirl. ;)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nineteen: The Damsel and The Prince.<strong>

_The double doors were opened and her eyes locked on to the man at the end of the alter._

_A smile lit up her lips; her eyes glowing as she began the slow walk down to her future._

_She gripped on the arm of the man beside her and looked up at him._

_There seemed to be a slight remorse in his eyes._

_She wasn't quite sure why._

_Perhaps he was wondering how it would have turned out between them if this had happened._

_She snapped her eyes away from his and back to her man at the end._

_This was it._

_This was everything she had hoped for._

_This was everything she had dreamed off._

_The man waiting for her at the end of isle was everything she hadn't known would have been good for her._

_She could feel the eyes of everyone around on her._

_She ignored them._

_Her everything was centred on him who was just several steps away from her._

_She couldn't believe this time had come._

_She honestly hadn't expected this time to come._

_It was simply a dream come true._

_Nothing in the world mattered._

_None of the mistakes it took her to get here mattered._

_This was it!_

_This was exactly what she wanted._

_She knew that now._

_He was perfect for her._

_She never thought he could be perfect for her._

_But he was._

_Her eyes slipped to man taking her down the aisle._

_He wasn't looking at her now._

_His concentration was on his best friend ahead._

_She had thought they were meant to be at one point._

_But as she took these steps towards her future, she just knew._

_She knew she had been wrong all this time._

_Her eyes slipped back to his._

_Her face lit up even brighter, if that were possible._

_She was blessed._

_She knew she didn't deserve him._

_He was… wonderful._

_He was… perfect._

_And he was going to be hers… forever._

_It was just a few more steps._

_Then she'd be there._

_She could take his hand._

_She could feel what forever was going to be like._

_She couldn't wait to find out what that would be like._

_The anticipation was killing her._

_She just wanted to be there._

_She wanted to be his wife._

_She wanted him to be her husband._

_And she wanted it right now._

_Why was it taking so long?_

_She almost growled aloud._

_Who knew this walk would be so treacherous._

_She looked at the distance between them._

_They were so close._

_It was just a few more steps._

_A few more steps and she'd be next to him._

_A few more steps and the ceremony could begin._

_A few more steps and she'd be his wife._

_There was no going back._

_She didn't want to go back._

_She didn't look at the man beside her anymore._

_That was her past._

_She knew she had made the right decision._

_She had known it as soon as the doors opened up._

_She had known it as soon as she had seen his smiling face._

_Oh, his smile was so beautiful._

_She really wished he would smile more often._

_Her heart began to race._

_She turned towards the place her father should have been._

_She looked up in to his eyes._

_There was a private message exchanged between the pair of them._

_It was OK._

_This was how it was supposed to be._

_He accepted it._

_She accepted it._

_They were going to be happy now._

_He leant forward and pulled her veil back from her face, letting it fall over her hair, hanging down her back._

_She smiled shyly at him._

_He grinned at her and leant in._

_A kiss was placed upon her cheek._

_She closed her eyes and relished in the feel of the future she could have had._

_Her eyes snapped back open when he pulled away._

_She smiled brighter at him._

_She was where she was supposed to be._

_She was happy._

_He led her up to her groom and placed their hands together._

_He then stood to the side and took his place as the best man._

_Her eyes locked on her groom._

_She thought she would faint._

_If this wasn't heaven, what on earth was?_

_This was the moment she had been waiting for all her life._

_But now she found herself longing for another moment._

_She longed for the moment they could leave this damned church._

_She longed for the moment where they could start their future together._

_Because damn… holding his hand right now, if this was what the future felt like she wanted it now._

_It felt so bloody fantastic._

_She nearly laughed out loud at the thought._

_She refrained._

_Her eyes finally tore away from her soon-to-be husband and to the vicar who was just beginning the ceremony._

"_We are gathered here today in the presence of God to join…" _

_Her thoughts slipped away from what was being said._

_She'd been to the rehearsal._

_She knew what was going to happen._

_Instead, her mind was back on the man beside her._

_She was forever thankful to whatever God had let her find him._

_He had saved her._

_He didn't even know that he had saved her._

_But damn, he had saved her from a world she wouldn't have wanted to live in._

_She felt him squeezing her hand in the lightest way; to anyone who was looking it would have gone unnoticed. _

_But she felt it._

_It felt so right._

_She smiled to herself._

_She knew he could see it._

_She squeezed his hand back._

_Oh God, she just couldn't get over the fact that today she would become his wife._

_In no less than half an hour, she would be his wife._

_He would be her husband._

_She had a feeling she was going to keep calling him husband until it sunk in that he was truly hers._

_Would it ever sink in though?_

_She found herself wondering that with the corniest smile on her face._

_She didn't think it would._

_Her thoughts slowly began to come back to the present and she heard the vicar say the words that made her breath hitch in anticipation._

"_If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together – let them speak now or forever hold their peace."_

_From the corner of her eye, she looked towards her groom's best man._

_He hadn't moved._

_He showed no signs of moving._

_His face was blank._

_He wasn't going to object._

_She had forgotten about the objection part._

_She was glad she had._

_Otherwise, walking down the aisle she would have been worried as to what he would do._

_She let out a breath, she hadn't realised she had been holding, when the vicar continued on with the service._

_She turned to look at her groom quickly and grinned at him._

_He smiled back._

_Her legs almost gave out underneath her._

_She had no worries though._

_If she fell; he'd save her._

_He was her prince charming._

_She was his damsel in distress._

_The thought made her laugh quietly._

_No one noticed._

_The man next to her did though._

_He smiled at her in a teasing manner._

_His eyes telling her he would ask her what was so funny later._

_She felt herself leaning in to the side of his body ever so slowly._

_Oh, how long was it going to take!_

_She just wanted to be married to him already._

_Could this service go any slower?_

_She repressed the sigh that nearly escaped her lips._

_She didn't want to cause her soon-to-be husband to worry._

_She didn't believe he would though._

_He knew her._

_He would have figured out why she had sighed._

_He probably would have stood next to her with a smug smile on his lips._

_Of course she'd feed his ego on the day of their wedding._

_She rolled her eyes slightly._

_She squeezed his hand tightly; to anyone who was looking, they would have noticed._

_She figured they would have found it cute._

_Oh, it was so close now!_

_Her thoughts quieted down and she found herself listening to what the vicar was saying._

_The vicar was making them turn towards one another now._

_She took in a deep breath._

_Somehow her man had come in to the procession of his ring for her._

_He was looking in to her eyes._

_She was staring back._

_His lips were moving._

_She couldn't hear him talking._

_Why couldn't she hear him talking?_

_Oh God, his eyes!_

_She forced herself away from his eyes._

_Her own fell to look at her hand that he was holding and slowly sliding her ring on to._

_Was he doing it to be teasing?_

_She thought so._

_He could probably tell how agitated she was._

_He knew how much she just wanted to be his wife now._

_His words slowly started to sound._

_Her heart began to race faster than before as she took them in._

"…_for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part."_

_The ring was snuggly in place on her finger._

_Oh, this day just couldn't get any better._

_She did her part well._

_She did it for the most part without stuttering a single word._

_While holding his hand and pressing the ring on to his ring finger, her hand was shaking._

_She thought she heard an "awe" from her mother._

_She forced herself not to roll her eyes._

_Of course that would be her reaction to her nerves._

_She gulped as she pushed his ring on to his finger, finally._

_Her eyes looked up and connected with his._

_Their part was mainly done._

_The ending was nearly here; the beginning of a lifetime starting to settle in._

_She just about caught the vicar's next words to them._

_She was too caught up in the whirlwind of emotions flickering through the man in fronts eyes._

_She had never seen them like this before._

_She was honoured that it was all for her._

"_By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife."_

_Her heart fluttered._

_He was holding both her hands now._

_He squeezed them; she was sure anyone looking would have seen._

"_You may now kiss the bride."_

_It didn't take another nudge._

_He was moving in to her._

_Her head followed his actions._

_The distance was lessening with every moment._

_Until finally, there was just no space between them._

_Their lips connected in the sweetest and softest kiss she had ever felt._

_It was absolute heaven._

_She was his wife._

_He was her husband._

_They had done it._

_They had made it._

_They pulled apart and turned to the audience in the church._

_They were clapping._

_It was their day._

_It was perfect._

…

That was when she opened her eyes and realised her mistake.

**Authors Note: **So, there it is. This is officially the end of my chapters. How does it feel? The story is over! Boo! Let me know how you feel about this chapter. Personally, I love it. It was so much fun to write. It just kept coming to me and I swear, I just could not stop writing it! I do have a plan for another story but I won't be writing that yet. I may take a break for the rest of the week. I'm going to see how I feel.

Thank-you for reading and reviewing! You have all been amazing.

Let me know what you think of the last chapter?

Petal.

P.S. I feel like the Goo Goo Doll's 'Iris' goes quite well with this chapter. :)


	20. Epilogue

**Give His Heart a Break.**

**Authors Note: **Did you guys really think I'd leave you on an ending like that? It was blunt. I am so glad that you all enjoyed it even if it made you feel a little bit heartbroken. No one really understood what I did. A few people edged towards what I did but no one got it. You were all seeing but no one was really observing. ;) So, anyways… here is the one thing you hadn't been waiting for. ;) I hope you enjoy.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>For the final time now, I do not own Sherlock!

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue.<strong>

It had been six months since that day.

Six months since he had watched those doors open at the end of aisle.

She had been beautiful.

His heart had nearly stopped.

He felt like the happiest man in the world.

That was _before _he saw her face.

She looked absolutely distraught.

It didn't take him long to figure out why.

His eyes had slipped to his best man beside her.

For once, he wasn't even trying to hide his emotions.

He was flabbergasted.

Sherlock Holmes looked… _sad_.

John Watson had rarely seen his friend show emotions.

Even when he did, they were ones of excitement and they over a case... not _this_.

He frowned.

They were shuffling towards him now.

Each looking sombre.

Each looking as if they were at a funeral.

He laughed, bitterly, to himself at the sight of them.

They almost looked… _made for one another_.

As they drew closer he noticed Sherlock's lips looked slightly… _pink_.

Pink?

John's eyes strolled over to Molly's and he gasped aloud.

The colour was the same as on Sherlock's lips.

He could tell his friend had tried to wipe it.

It was on one of his hands.

He almost laughed aloud again.

Sherlock really had no experience in this division; he couldn't even get her lipstick off properly.

Why hadn't she told him there was lipstick on his lips?

Had she wanted him to see it?

His eyebrows raised and his eyes fell to her.

She really did look beautiful.

He felt queasy.

It then sunk in to his head.

He wasn't mad.

He wasn't even fuming that they had kissed.

He was thinking about why she hadn't told him what was on his lips.

He gasped, aloud.

No one seemed to notice.

Their eyes were all on Molly.

Here in front of him was his future wife and she had clearly just been lip locking with his best friend… yet he didn't care.

What did that mean?

Did he not love her?

He suddenly felt unsure of the answer.

How could he marry her when he felt unsure of the answer?

He looked at her lovely face once more.

She wasn't even looking at him.

He could see her eyes were on him.

The sight in front of him broke his heart.

They looked _devastated_.

Molly looked as if she had just realised what she was doing.

Sherlock looked as if he had just realised what he was losing.

But neither seemed like they were going to stop it.

He opened his mouth to speak; this entire thing was an absolute… _sham_!

He stepped forward and held up his hand.

Sherlock and Molly stopped in their walk.

Each of them had a frown upon their face.

Although Sherlock seemed aware of what John was about to do.

"I-I can't do this." He spoke gently.

The audience all turned to look at him instantly.

Had he really said what they thought they had heard?

"W-why?" Molly stumbled over the words.

"You know why, Molly!" He exclaimed.

She flinched.

"I do-don't, J-John."

He smiled at her softly and stepped towards the pair.

Who would have thought they would make such a _perfect _couple?

"What were you thinking about before those doors opened?"

Molly looked down, blushing.

"You." She murmured.

"How excited I was to see you."

John rolled his eyes.

She was such a poor liar.

"The truth, Molly; I'm not mad."

Her eyes flickered up to his and she bit down on her lip, smearing some of her lipstick across her front teeth.

"Sherlock."

The man in question looked towards her with shocked eyes.

That caused John to laugh.

Had he really not noticed?

"What were you thinking about Sherlock?"

Molly looked away from the man whose gaze was sending shivers through her spine.

"What it would be like if I was marrying him today…" She began to trail off in a whisper when she hit the word 'marrying.'

From the few nearest to them he heard shocked gasps.

She looked towards John, out of the corner of her eye; he was smiling.

"What did it feel like?"

He _knew_.

He just needed her to admit it aloud.

It would hurt his heart to hear it.

But it wouldn't break.

He wasn't in love with her.

He realised that now.

They were in love with one another.

They needed admit it aloud to one another.

"It was the best feeling I've ever had… indescribable."

"So why are you walking down this aisle to me then?"

Her eyes widened.

He heard her breathing hitch.

A smirk slowly glided its ways on to his lips.

He turned his attention from them and to their family and friends.

"There will be no wedding today… unless you two are up for it?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

His eyes turned on to Sherlock's.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes on him.

She was no longer holding Sherlock's arm; their hands were entwined together in a gentle lock.

"No thank-you, John."

Before Molly could even speak, Sherlock was dragging her with him out of the church.

That had been the last time he had seen his best friend and his once-to-be wife for two weeks.

* * *

><p>John had come home from working at the clinic one day to find Molly and Sherlock sitting comfortably on the couch.<p>

Sherlock's head was in her lap; his eyes were closed.

Molly was reading a book; she appeared engrossed with the words it held.

He noticed that her fingers, that weren't holding the book, were tangled in to Sherlock's mass of curls, stroking him softly.

They were oblivious to his presence in the room.

He let his keys clatter to the kitchen table.

Molly looked up.

Sherlock stayed in his position; his eyes didn't flutter or open.

He was obviously locked away in his mind palace.

"Hello, John."

Molly was smiling.

He found it odd really.

He hadn't seen her since the day of _their _wedding and yet here she was pretending like none of it had happened.

"Hello, Molly."

He'd expected it from Sherlock.

Sherlock was above caring to an extent.

John had called the wedding off after all.

He'd called it off because of _them_.

"I hope you're OK with me being here. If you aren't just say so; I'll leave."

She looked down at Sherlock.

John thought she looked as if she were blushing.

She probably was.

This was _Molly _after all.

"No you won't."

Molly seemed to jump at the voice from the man whose head was resting in her lap.

"I won't?"

"You won't."

He sounded slightly irritated by the conversation taking place, John noticed.

"Why won't I? If John's uncomfortable..."

John had moved out of the kitchen now and could see Sherlock's eyes blink open.

"You won't because John called off the wedding; he wanted us to… be… _together_. There's the first reason. The second reason being that this is my flat, too, and if I want company here he'll have to deal with it; God knows the amount of times I've had to put up with his _incipient_ _girlfriends_."

Molly gasped and smacked Sherlock's arm lightly, teasingly.

"I was one of them _incipient girlfriends_ you are referring to."

Sherlock looked up at Molly with a look in his eyes that John couldn't decipher.

Whatever it was had Molly smiling back at him in a love struck manner.

"You were different."

"Why? Because I can give you access to dead bodies?"

Sherlock laughed.

John felt shocked.

He'd known this man for quite some time now and yet he'd barely seen him laugh.

Molly really was _different_.

"That and the fact you whip up a decent cup of coffee."

She giggled and rolled her eyes.

He closed his own again.

She went back to her book.

John didn't know what to make of the scene he was seeing.

It was so… _natural _and yet… _unnatural_.

He decided to ignore it and get on with his day.

"I'm making tea. Would anyone like one?"

"No, thank-you." Molly murmured.

She was becoming lost in her book again.

John got no reply from Sherlock, he hadn't really expected one.

That was how it had been for the past six months since the almost marriage.

* * *

><p>John, strangely, found himself used to their weird routine.<p>

Whenever Sherlock was on a case and he needed to think, he always demanded Molly be there.

He didn't want to talk.

He just wanted to lie down in her lap, eyes shut.

This had caused himself and Molly many arguments.

John found it rather amusing each time he heard them on the phone.

Molly _finally_ stood up to him.

She told him she was at work and couldn't just leave because he wanted her to.

He'd complain and tell her this was more important.

Molly would growl at him and tell him that just because he didn't deem her work important, all the time, didn't mean he was right.

She'd then hang up the phone.

Sherlock would be angry for half an hour.

He'd try lying down on the couch alone, thinking; he never seemed to be able to enter in to his mind palace though.

Eventually, he'd leave Baker Street and hop in to a cab to St. Bart's.

He'd sit in the morgue while Molly worked; he found he could enter his mind palace with Molly simply in the room.

* * *

><p>Four months after the wedding day, John had witnessed a moment he never thought he would see between Sherlock and Molly.<p>

Heck, he hadn't believed he would see it between Sherlock and _anyone_.

Molly was staying over, like she often did on a Friday night.

Even when they were on a case Molly slept here.

John had gone to bed about two and a half hours ago.

He'd woken up with a thirst and so he'd stumbled from his bed to the door.

He'd paused though.

There in the kitchen was Molly and Sherlock.

Molly was sat on top of the table; her hair was slightly ruffled.

Sherlock was standing in between her legs; his lips were slightly swollen.

Sherlock's hands were on Molly's hips and they were staring one another in the eyes.

"I really don't understand why you won't, Molly. It's the logical option."

Molly rolled her eyes.

John knew why.

Even after everything that had happened, Sherlock still remained faithful to logic.

"It's too soon, Sherlock." She sighed.

Sherlock's fingers began to circle patterns over her hips and he pulled her closer to him.

"Who says it's too soon? Society? Really Molly? I know you're a fan of those awfully _dull _novels by that writer… I forgot her name again…"

"Jane Austen," the girl supplied.

"Yes! Jane Austen! But we are not living in that era, Molly. No one is going to care. Why are you so bothered about people caring?"

"That's not the reason, Sherlock! I'm not a prude! It's only been four months since I was supposed to marry _your _best friend and now you're asking me to move in with you and the said _best friend_!"

John could see Sherlock's eyes roll in irritation.

"John will be fine with it! He no longer has feelings for you. He'll understand that it's the most logical option. You're here more nights than less and we are living in London. Rental prices aren't easy to afford. Why should you pay for something you hardly use?"

"Because!" She gasped, clearly exasperated.

He waited.

She never finished.

"That's not an answer, Molly."

She shoved him away from her and hopped down from the table.

"Well, it's the only answer you're going to get."

She stormed towards the living room where her shoes lay and began to slip them on.

The conversation must have been going on for quite some time now, she seemed thoroughly pissed off John noticed.

Sherlock followed her.

There was a frown settled upon Sherlock's face.

"You aren't really going to go _home _at this hour, Molly."

"Watch me."

John thought he heard a slight grow come from Sherlock.

"I'm not letting you leave this flat."

Molly stood up and glared at him.

She spoke nothing as she went and grabbed her coat.

He got between her and the door before she could even face towards it.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about."

"Of course you wouldn't!" She exclaimed.

"Enlighten me." He glowered at her, his tone dark.

Molly looked to him and glowered right back.

She certainly was no longer timid Molly around him.

"Have you ever thought that perhaps I might want to keep my place? That perhaps I might just like it?"

He stared at her for a few moments.

"Well do you?"

"No."

"Take your coat off, Molly."

They stood still for a few moments.

John wasn't sure what was happening.

But within the next couple of minutes, Molly's coat had been discarded to the floor and she was in his arms.

She had moved in the next week.

* * *

><p>At first, it had been hard to adjust to the constant presence of a female in the flat.<p>

Even though she had been there most days before she had moved in, it was just different now.

He found her belongings in the bathroom.

He saw her clothes in the washing machine.

He found romantic DVDs by the television.

He saw her magazine lying across the coffee table.

Eventually, he had gotten used to it.

You could even say he enjoyed her presence in the flat.

The place felt a lot warmer with her feminine touch.

Somehow, she had even got Sherlock to cut back on the amount of body parts stashed in their fridge.

She had made a rule of no more than two at once and severed heads were strictly not allowed.

Molly had changed a lot of things, really.

She had managed to get Sherlock to start eating regular, even when on a case.

She had managed to get him to start cleaning up after himself… well, most of the time.

She had managed to get him to start using his manners.

Yes, he did actually have them!

He'd shocked everyone the day he'd used them on Anderson.

It had especially _shocked _Anderson.

John was beginning to believe that Molly was the most unusual thing to happen to Sherlock.

But at the same time she was the best thing that could have happened to him.

* * *

><p>That was all confirmed the morning he had awoken early.<p>

He was going to meet a woman called Mary for coffee.

They had met at the clinic a couple days ago.

While getting ready to leave, he couldn't find his belt and remembered that Sherlock had been using it to test some ridiculous theory out the other day.

It was in his room.

He sighed.

He'd have to go in there.

It was the only belt he had that went with this outfit.

He wanted to make a good impression.

He had a feeling Mary and himself would hit it off.

Silently, he moved towards the slightly open door and pushed it further.

He cringed at the slight creek, praying he hadn't woken them up.

He let his head tilt so he could see in the room.

He stilled as he took in the scene before him.

It was a scene he honestly never thought he would have seen.

They were still asleep.

They were still asleep on the bed that was once just Sherlock's but now belonged to Molly, too.

Molly's head was leaning on one of Sherlock's arms and his other was wrapped around her waist in a protective manner. He was lying on one side of his body, angled towards her and his head was lent in to the crook of her neck.

John could hear Sherlock softly sigh as he slept.

He'd never seen his friend so _calm_.

He'd never seen him so at _peace_.

It was then that John realised just how special Molly Hooper is.

That petite, timid mouse that lay before him had done two things that no one else had managed.

She had given his heart a break from the ache of grieving for Sherlock.

And she had given Sherlock's heart a break by showing him that it was OK to let feelings rule over logic.

He smiled and shut the door on the sleeping pair, belt forgotten about as he made his way out of 221B.

Yes.

Molly Hooper was quite special, indeed.

* * *

><p><strong>Authors Note: <strong>And that, my dears is the true end to this story. I cannot believe I fooled you all!

Now, the ones who kind of clocked on to what had happened were: ThisLooksLikeAJobForMe, ber1719, and MarvelDC superhero fan. You all had some inkling that was right but you all saw it wrong. Well done though! ;D

I decided that seen as no one really got the hints in the previous chapter I would write them out for you and so below are the answers:

-The italics

-At the beginning I wrote the words: "_Perhaps he was wondering how it would have turned out between them if this had happened_" which was me stating that in the past the option of marriage had been in their future. That obviously could have only been with John.

-"_She knew she didn't deserve him_."

-"_She really wished he would smile more often_."

-"_She closed her eyes and relished in the feel of the future she could have had." _(remember that even though he had confessed the feelings he had for her, she didn't know that they could have anything together and so this could only mean that it was John as their future was already planned out)

-"_She felt him squeezing her hand in the lightest way; to anyone who was looking it would have gone unnoticed._" "_She squeezed his hand tightly; to anyone who was looking, they would have noticed._" (Throughout this story I have used this as a Molly and Sherlock thing.)

-"_He probably would have stood next to her with a smug smile on his lips. Of course she'd feed his ego on the day of their wedding._" (Can you really picture John like this? It's more likely going to be Sherlock's reaction)

-"_Her own fell to look at her hand that he was holding and slowly sliding her ring on to. Was he doing it to be teasing?_" (John wouldn't do that! He'd be so serious! Sherlock wouldn't pass up the opportunity to make somebody squirm!)

-The fact she opens her eyes at the end… it links to the previous chapter. It was a clue that the story wasn't truly over… there wasn't a summary.

-I left the status of this story as 'incomplete.' ;)

There it is, darlings! There are all my clues in the previous chapter that stated it wasn't over. Since the beginning of the story I've been lying to you. At first I said there was going to be only fifteen chapters when I knew there would be sixteen and then of course, that changed to nineteen but I knew there would be twenty. I just wanted to bug you all. I hope you enjoyed my little twist!

Now, on to the part I've been excited for. I just can't believe how well this story has done. You are all the most fabulous people in the world! So, thank-you so much for reading and reviewing!

The current stats of my story are as follows:

-Reviews: 235

-Hits: 23,987

-Favourites: 60

-Alerts: 107

When I began writing this, I honestly never expected all of that and so I thank-you all so much!

I have two readers I want to give a huge shout out to as they are the ones that really egged me on in writing this. So, _kewellchick _and _Nocturnias _thank-you! I love you two and you are amazing! I really could not have done this without the support of my lovely self-designated number one reader! You are a gem, my Australian friend.

Finally, thank-you for everything and keep an eye out for a new story! I have an idea I'm working on but for a few days, I am going to take a break.

Let me know what you all thought of the story!

Also, I'm sorry for such a long authors note: I really needed to thank you all!

Petal.


	21. Announcement

Well hello there, my dearies!

It has been a long time, hasn't it? I didn't quite do what I said I would in coming back to Fanfiction at the beginning of the summer. There are reasons for that and I will explain them in a bit. I am actually back now. This time I mean that though. Anyways, I am posting this non-chapter for two reasons.

One, a lovely fanficer a few months ago made this story a wonderful video! And I would love for you to all check it out. It's a YouTube video and the link for it is below:

watch?v=lMWVVsB4ns8&list=UUbDENo1K7Fk6Gzm4GQ6BokQ&index=22&feature=plcp

Just add _Youtube DOT com / (no spaces)_ to the beginning of the link and it should take you straight to the page.

So thank you **SYLENDA**!

Two, I am here to inform you that for the last couple weeks I have been working on a Molly and Sherlock oneshot! FINALLY, I KNOW! So please do keep an eye out for it and, if you aren't already, follow me and then you can be alerted as to when I post it.

It should be called something along the lines of** 'Speak Now,'** but it is undecided if that's going to be its final name.

Any who, cheerio for now!

Petal.


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